


we've been through a lot of things, you and me

by sincerelysobbe



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beach Reunion (Chapter Two), Implied Smut, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutual Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysobbe/pseuds/sincerelysobbe
Summary: Since they were kids, Robbe and Sander have been friends. But, then, something happens to shift their entire dynamic...
Relationships: Jens Stoffels/Lucas van der Heijden, Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 90
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> So, I've decided to finally post this. A majority of this chapter _was_ originally posted on my Tumblr page, but I'm definitely planning on continuing this story in a similar format (posting some but not all snippets on my Tumblr page as I write them). There are only going to be two chapters (maybe three if the second gets too long) so it's not going to be like Unattainable with 8 chapters. I'm still working on my Harry Potter AU plot line which will be my current fic that I will be doing through the seasons of the show, but at Hogwarts (with Jana being first, then Zoë, then Robbe, and eventually Yasmina). 
> 
> Please note that not all characters will appear in this first chapter. Some will be added next! 
> 
> But, for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Edit: I didn't finish the summary like an idiot lol

Robbe waited outside the gates of the school, tapping his foot impatiently, fiddling with the case of his cell phone, and just about anything he could do to pass the time. It was almost time for school to start and he had to run on the opposite side of the building for his Biology class. He had already warned Yasmina that he was going to be late and she had given him a look, telling him that she would cover him as long as he told her why after class. 

So, why was Robbe going to be late?

Because Robbe was waiting for Sander Driesen. 

Sander was Robbe’s childhood best friend. 

For the first ten years of their lives, the two of them had lived across the street from one another. Nathan, Robbe’s older brother by four years, had teased Robbe endlessly at how quickly Sander and Robbe grew to know one another, about as easily as they knew themselves and their family. When Sander started school, he met Senne and, a few years later, Robbe met Jens, but the two of them stayed close, long after they established their own friends and the IJzermans moved to a new house around the corner. Despite their varying friend groups and interests, Sander would come over, play video games with him, and sleep in Robbe’s full-size bed after drunken nights out at the same parties. 

Despite how much they changed, the two of them and their friendship remained constant. 

Until now.

Or, well, _technically_ , last Friday. 

It was Senne’s party and Sander had moved into Senne’s bathroom, camping out in the bathtub with a few bags of weed and three bottles of tequila. It was the final last-hurrah celebration (or mourning, depending on how you saw it) party before the new school year started. Everything over the summer with Britt and Jens and Jana had come to a head, weeks ago, and Robbe was tired of being stuck in the middle of it all. So, he searched out Sander, found him in the bathtub, and smoked a joint or two with him and then… 

Despite the heat from the sun, Robbe shivered. 

As if those waiting in the courtyard could hear his heartbeat, hear the blood in Robbe’s body suddenly course _down_ , Robbe tried to fight away all thoughts of what happened in that blasted bathroom, but he failed miserably because that had been all he had been thinking of, Sander’s fingers in his hair and their lips pressed together, whines and groans emitted from both of them, Sander’s lips against his neck, sucking bruises into skin, how Robbe had never felt more _alive_ and shameful in one coordinated swoop of emotion and _hands_ and…

“Sup, Robbe.”

It was Senne, moving past him and into the courtyard with Luka by his side and…

“Hey, Senne,” Robbe spoke up, his eyes falling on the empty spot at Senne’s right, the spot the Sander would normally encompass. The brunet turned towards him, half-bored, half-unconcerned. But, he paused all the same and Robbe stepped closer to him, watching as Senne waved Luka and the others off. “Have you… I mean, where’s Sander?” 

The brunet and leader shrugged his shoulders, “Probably Paris, by now.”

Robbe blinked. “What?”

Senne seemed surprised. “Paris, France?” he offered. 

“I know what Paris is,” Robbe replied, annoyed. “But, why is Sander there? He’s going to miss the first week of school.” 

A look of realization, and confusion, passed over Senne’s features, glancing over his shoulder at the boys and the teacher who was trying to call them all inside to go to class. “He didn’t tell you?” Senne gauged, hoisting his bag further up onto his shoulder. 

Robbe’s blood ran cold, freezing in his veins and down his body. “Tell me what?” 

Senne let out a heavy sigh like he was unqualified to explain, but he did anyway, mumbling to himself, “He would leave _me_ to tell you this, wouldn’t he? Umm… his mother got a job offer in Paris for the next year and his father transferred to a law firm in Paris to go with. He and Camille are going to transfer to a school in Paris for the next year.”

“What?” Robbe spoke, trying not to think about how his voice broke or how Senne immediately noticed it. 

“Yeah, but it’s not all that bad,” Senne spoke, trying to sound comforting. “Sander has always been trying to go to France, as you know. It’s one of his top ten places to photograph and everything so once things get settled down, he’ll be having a great time with all of his photography and everything.”

“How long has he known?” Robbe questioned. 

“Huh?”

“How long did he know that he was going to move to France?” Robbe replied, his voice quiet. 

There’s a sympathetic look on Senne’s face. “About the beginning of the summer.” Robbe felt his heart crumble. Why didn’t Sander tell him? Senne reached out to pat his shoulder, pushing him towards the school building where a stern teacher was waiting to scold the two of them. “Come on, we’re going to be late for our classes.” 

Robbe sent Sander a message before he fully stepped into his Biology classroom, avoiding Yasmina’s confused glance as he sat down beside her, leaving his phone out on the desk. He avoided her stares when he constantly started checking his phone and avoided the teacher’s eyesight as she went over the pieces of the syllabus and what they were going to be doing for the remainder of the school year. But, all Robbe could do was focus on his phone, opened up on the text that he had sent before he had stepped inside the classroom.

The texts that had been read, but unanswered. 

_Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?_

* * *

Sander didn’t know how long he had been in love with Robbe. 

Whatever boundaries existed with his other friends, never existed with Robbe. With Robbe, they had known each other for so long, back before any possible boundaries could’ve been created, and the lack of boundaries had only continued into their later years, with other friends. With Robbe, they could sleep in the same bed and it not be weird. With Robbe, Sander could talk about his first kiss and time in detail without Robbe feeling awkward and weird. With Robbe, Sander didn’t have to hide who he was. 

And, that’s probably why it hit him when it did, Robbe sprawled out on Sander’s bed, his long hair fanned out on the pillow beneath his head, half-closed in sleep as he listened to Sander, who was talking about hooking up with a girl at a party. He had stopped mid-sentence, staring down at Robbe, half-asleep, half-fighting to stay awake, and he was hit with the _oh_ , the realization that changed everything, the realization that Sander loved Robbe, wanted to be with Robbe, and it stung more than he was willing to admit. 

But, of _course_ , it had been Robbe. 

While there was a part of Sander that hoped, that _wished_ , that Robbe might feel the same, he knew that Robbe had some girlfriends, here and there, kissing them in the hallway. If Robbe was interested in guys, he never said anything and, so, Sander was fine with keeping his feelings to himself. When his parents announced that they were moving to France, Sander had pushed off telling Robbe, because he didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to think that him moving to France was going to change anything with their friendship, didn’t want to admit that he hoped that being away from Robbe would stop these feelings. 

But, then, Sander went and fucked it up himself. 

The bathroom would’ve never happened to sober Sander. But, Sander hadn’t been sober. From the moment that he had spotted Robbe stepping into the party with Jens and Jana, with his hair partially pulled back because he had been talking about needing to get it cut and a black shirt that _swallowed_ his body, Sander knew that he should likely spend the rest of the party alone, trapped in Senne’s bathroom or else he was going to do something that he would eventually end up regretting. 

And, then, he hadn’t locked the damn door. 

Alcohol and weed fucked with Sander’s impulse control, and, from the moment that Robbe stepped through the door, closing the door, joining him in the bathtub, Sander realized that only his sober mind, the one without the alcohol and the weed, would be the only one that _might’ve_ been able to not act on the feelings that had been bouncing around in Sander’s chest since the first _oh_ moment, on his bed.

But, sober Sander had already left out the window, bounded across the entirety of Antwerp, fleeing with whatever impulse control that he _possessed_ , and it took Sander all of thirty minutes to finally give in to the impulse to lean over to Robbe, pressing their lips together in one fluid motion, one quick motion that ended with a chaste kiss. 

Robbe had yelped, pushed him away, staring up at him with those wide-doe eyes, and Sander has to squash his inner thoughts of stupidity because he had done the _one thing_ that he wanted to do (but, really shouldn’t have) and the apology is on the tip of his tongue before Robbe’s eyes flickered down to Sander’s lips then back up to his eyes before he’s reaching up and pressing their lips back together again, slowly, cautiously. A burn flared up in his chest, igniting every part of his body and bringing him to the edge as Robbe slid so his back was flat against the tub floor, bringing Sander over him, gripping onto him tightly, his leg hooked on Sander’s. 

After they kissed, after their hips rolled together, releasing broken moans in their kiss, after their jeans became strained to the point it was almost _painful_ , he should’ve stopped. 

But, he didn’t stop. He didn’t _want_ to stop, not that he had Robbe here, Robbe’s fingers dug into his hair, just as desperate and needy as he was. His impulse control was gone, shattered and split into oblivion, and their hands wandered and moved on instinct, and his mouth dragged along Robbe’s jaw, neck, down across his t-shirt, and Robbe letting out a groan, pulling lightly at his hair and nodding his head, was the only thing that he needed to undo Robbe’s belt as he kissed a bruise into the collarbone of his neck, listening to his friend’s broken whines, before he ventured further. 

But, now, in France, staring down at Robbe’s text, _Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?_ , he couldn’t figure out what to say to make it better, to make Robbe understand that it wasn’t his choice to move, that he wanted nothing more than to be in Antwerp, his arms bound tightly around Robbe’s neck, but he couldn’t figure out how to explain his own selfish desires that led them to go _that far_ in the bathroom. Sander didn’t know how to explain that all to Robbe, how to make him disappearing any better.

In actuality, all Sander could think about was how he broke the one thing that he had sworn that he would never, _ever_ break, the one thing that he never wanted to, his friendship with Robbe, but he had done so anyway, the moment that they kissed and Sander had undone the buckle of Robbe’s belt, crossing that boundary that they hadn’t crossed before. 

So, he tossed his phone away, unsure of what to say, and buried his face in his hands. 

* * *

Robbe’s texts remained unanswered. 

After about a day, Robbe sent another one, telling Sander that he wasn’t mad, just confused, and that he wanted to talk to him. But, that text remained unanswered too. Robbe tried his best to remain calm, to believe that it was all just the fact that Sander had moved to a new city and was in need of some adjusting, but as Robbe stood three people behind Senne in the cafeteria, happening to hear something about Sander texting him, he was starting to become more and more unconvinced that it was the case. 

After a while, Robbe asked Senne and Senne promised that he would find out, but, if he ever did, Robbe had never gotten an answer from him, not a concrete one anyway. After that was a bust, he finally swallowed his courage and called Sander’s mom, they still had each other’s phone numbers. After a few minutes of chatting with Katrijn Driesen, Robbe becoming more and more eager to talk to Sander, she promised to have Sander give him a call once he got home. 

But, as Robbe listened to his parents fight through the night, an increased occurrence now that Nathan had moved away to college, his own visits home become less and less frequent, his phone never rang and finally, Robbe pinched his eyes and sent the final texts that Robbe would ever send Sander.

_What did I do wrong to make you go away?_

_Tell me and I’ll fix it. I promise._

_Please._

But, once again, the message had been opened, the characters read, and he was left without a response.

* * *

With Sander’s sudden and abrupt departure, combined with Nathan leaving for college and never coming home, Robbe clung a little too tightly to Jens. Sander had been Robbe’s oldest friend and Nathan was his brother, but both of them, constants in Robbe’s messy life, were gone, vanished like smoke and leaving Robbe clinging to fight for them. Jens invited him to the cabin and Robbe knew that Jana didn’t want him there but he went anyway. Moyo showed up too and that only pissed him off even more. 

Moyo and his homophobic jokes and comments, who also had no problem with Jens calling his ass tight and slapping him there. 

And, the worst part was Jens didn’t seem to realize the effect that it had on Robbe. 

Sander would.

But, Sander was gone. 

The night in the bathroom hadn’t been the first time that Robbe had considered the fact that he might’ve liked guys. In fact, his browser history could attain that. But, that night in the bathroom had been the final lock in the rattling of the cage, his attraction for guys breaking through with a fury. Robbe had known that he had feelings for Jens, especially with the lengths that he found himself willing to go through to break up Jens and Jana (even as he told himself it was because she was stealing his best friend away, and somehow that made him feel worse). 

But, that night in the bathroom had been his unlocking for his feelings for _Sander._

All too quickly, his dreams of Jens, the one that made him feel dirty and guilty, Jens with his black hair and his too-long legs towering over Robbe, were quickly replaced by Sander, with his brown hair and his leather jacket and every single thing that they managed to do drunkenly in the bathroom at Senne’s party. Occasionally, Jens would still pop up, but only if Robbe forced his image to show up, because he wanted to forget Sander because Sander had left and he wasn’t coming back. 

Robbe couldn’t imagine himself being with anyone else, didn’t _want_ to, and he was terrified of the jokes and rumors that were already swirling around him like a plague. Because, yeah, he was attracted to guys but he wasn’t like _that._

So, he tried to fall into a blissful piece of whatever Jens had with Jana. And, surprisingly, there were a handful of girls that were more than eager to kiss Robbe, much to Moyo’s absolute annoyance. Robbe would date a girl for a couple of months, make out in her bedroom, at parties where everyone saw, let her push him up against the brick wall. He would stop their hands when they got too low, made up some excuse when they pouted, and had gotten pretty good at hiding that it didn’t do _anything_ to him.

Sometimes, he wanted to try, to be normal, but he stopped because he knew that they wouldn’t do anything. 

After a bit, Robbe would make up another excuse as to why he needed to break up with her. He didn’t have time for a relationship, his mom was a little much, they deserved better than someone like him.

With each passing relationship failure, Jens and Moyo were loud in their complaints that he was a fucking idiot. Robbe pretended that he didn’t feel the same way because it was all an elaborate ruse to hide from them, hide from himself. The only person he wanted to be that close to was a guy, and that it was Sander, his oldest friend, but Sander was gone, moved to France, dropped off all contact, and never was going to look back.

He was never going to come back.

Until he did. 

To visit Senne. 

Robbe was half-propped against the brick wall of the courtyard, using his bag as a cushion to protect himself from the bricks behind him. This time around, his girlfriend was kissing him a little feverously, open-mouthed and tongue, and it felt a little too hot and heavy to be having before school had even started and somehow Robbe felt like that might’ve been the entire point. Her hand was pressed against his chest, moving faster and faster down his body, until Robbe managed to snag it by the wrist. 

His girlfriend let out a groan, looking up to stare at him. 

“We can’t,” Robbe started. 

“Why not?”

“We’re right outside of school!” 

His girlfriend started to respond back, opening her mouth in a way that _should’ve_ been cute or seducing, but wasn’t, likely to fire off some flirtatious response about a bathroom or a shower, and Robbe prepared himself to deflect it. But, they’re both cut off. “Hey.” 

Robbe twisted, so fast that he might’ve been worried about his neck, feeling his breath leave his body and his blood boil in anger all in one coordinated, single flip. 

Sander. 

Despite having gone to France for almost a year, he hadn’t changed that much. He still wore dark jeans and a leather jacket, all for the aesthetic, and a David Bowie t-shirt. He had gotten taller, a little bit, and he now wore a pair of Doc Martens on his feet. He had dyed his hair a brilliant platinum blond and it looked a little too good for Robbe to be mad at him. He stood there in front of them like he had always been able to be there and his green eyes darted to his girlfriend with a guarded look on his face. 

Robe recognized it immediately. 

_No_ , Robbe inwardly hissed. _He does not get be jealous._

“Senne is in the courtyard,” Robbe edged out, his grip on his girlfriend’s side getting a bit tighter. Sander’s eyes snapped towards him, his pupils dilating slightly, and Robbe forced himself to stare at him. “You might have to try a few times to get his attention. He’s been pretty wrapped up in Zoë lately.” 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you too,” Sander started. 

“Oh, _now_ you want to talk to me?” Robbe questioned, his eyebrows raising. Sander nodded. “I’ll see you inside.” His girlfriend looked confused, but nodded anyway, pressing a kiss to his lips, making it a little more filthy than a peck on the lips should be, before disappearing into the courtyard. Robbe crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”

“Does she know?” Sander questioned, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Robbe swallowed. “Know what?” he questioned. 

“You’re seriously going to make me say it?” It’s a joke, light one at best, but Robbe is tired. 

“What?” Robbe questioned, glancing around. 

They were the only ones alone now, but Robbe didn’t want to have this conversation here and now. All it took was one person around the corner to catch steam in a high school rumor mill. Robbe was already dodging rumors and Moyo’s homophobic comments, to begin with, and if anyone heard what he was about to say, it would only make it worse. 

But, Robbe needed to know if Sander remembered too, “That you sucked me off in a bathroom at Senne’s party, disappeared without warning to Paris even though you’d known for months that you were moving there, and left me here wondering what the fuck I did wrong with _no_ explanation?” 

Sander blinked, looking shameful, and somehow, that made it all worse.

“Is that what you were going to say?” Robbe questioned. 

Sander was quiet, biting down on his lip. 

As Robbe moved into the courtyard, which was loud and crowded, he turned back to Sander, who had feebly turned to look at him and replied, “Senne’s over there, wrapped up in Zoë, but I’m sure that he’ll be glad to see you.” 

“Robbe,” Sander was staring at him now. “How can I fix this between us?” 

Robbe didn’t have an answer, and Sander knew him well enough to know that, so he walked off into the courtyard, putting on the happy smile for his girlfriend, silencing her question with a kiss, and flipping off Moyo over her shoulder when he let out a catcall.

* * *

As Robbe exited onto the floor of the flatshare, his body ached and he wanted nothing more than to swipe one of Senne’s liquors from the fridge and drink himself until his brain shut up enough to let him sleep. His body ached all over from the punches that those guys left, the ones that Robbe had managed to draw away from those two girls kissing outside a bar. He had a cut on his forehead, a bruise on his arm, and several on his chest and stomach. A cop had scared them off and brought Robbe home, filing a report on the matter. 

The cop wouldn’t leave until he knew Robbe was in his apartment safely and that was how Senne found out about the fight, becoming fiercely protective of Robbe without ever having been so before. Zoë had found out shortly after the cop left, as Senne yanked up Robbe’s shirt, ignoring the younger boy’s protests, to check the full extent of the damages, to see if Robbe needed to go to the hospital. The only person in the flatshare who didn’t witness it was Milan, who had gone home for the weekend. 

Robbe assumed that it was only a matter of time before he found out. 

Robbe kicked off his shoes, they rebounded against the wall loudly, thumping on the ground. He wanted to bend over, to straighten them and the boots he knocked over. But, in all honesty, it hurt to laugh and bending over might only aggravate the bruises and the soreness of his chest, and Robbe didn’t want Senne to lift up his shirt again to assess his bruises or drag him off to the hospital against his will. 

Speaking of Senne, the brunet poked his head out of the door that led to the living room, the sounds of video games filling the hallway, “What are you doing home?” Before he moved into the flatshare, he had gotten used to the veil that Senne had surrounded himself in at school, the leather jacket and the fuckboy attitude and the too-cool for life. While his love for partying still persisted, his softness beneath the leather jacket had shined through, likely all of Zoë’s doing, and Robbe was amazed how little he had known of the real Senne.

“Party was lame,” Robbe mumbled, moving towards Senne and into the kitchen. Senne stepped forward to peer around the corner at him. “I’m going to swipe some of your liquor.”

“Got money for it?”

“I’ll save some next time my dad sends me money,” Robbe replied, opening the fridge. 

“How are the bruises?”

Robbe sighed. “I’m fine, Senne.”

“Are you sure? Let me see.”

“Senne, for fuck’s sake, I’m fine!”

Senne gave him a look, disappearing into the living room. Robbe tried to escape into his room, but Senne returned snagging him by his elbow before he could make it in, the one that _wasn’t_ bruised, and pulled him back fully into the hallway. The video game abruptly cut off. He heard someone moving around, probably Luka or one of the other Beat Boys, and Robbe found his eyes wandering over to the living room door. Senne snapped his fingers, returning Robbe’s attention to him.

There was a look on Senne’s face, crossing his arms over his chest. Robbe let out a sigh, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this. He reached down, snagging his fingers beneath the end of his hoodie and pulled up. His shirt brushed over the bruises slightly, his shoulder aching, and he winced, pausing briefly with his shirt only at his stomach. Senne reached out, grabbing a hold of the fabric and helping Robbe the rest of the way, avoiding the fabric along the edge of the bruises. 

With the fabric of his shirt tucked under his thumb, Senne plopped his hand on Robbe’s shoulder, staring down at the bruises, shining the flash from his phone on them. He let out a heavy sigh, shifting under Senne’s gaze and praying that Senne would deem him fine to _not_ go to the hospital. The last thing he needed was for his father to yank him out of here. “They definitely got you good,” Senne mumbled. 

Senne’s fingers applied a light pressure at the edges of the bruises and Robbe winched again, letting out a sharp hiss. “Thanks,” he mumbled and Senne gave him a _sorry_ look. “I had no idea.”

Senne grinned. “Least your sarcasm is still working.” 

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Sander.

The man had stepped out of the living room and Senne turned towards him. Almost immediately, Senne’s hand snapped away from Robbe’s shoulder, his shirt and sweater falling back over his chest, and Senne was covering Robbe’s chest, who didn’t care about being modest right now. He was dressed in another band t-shirt that Robbe knew that he had been obsessed with since middle school and a pair of fitting skinny jeans that made him swallow a little too hard. There was a look of unbottled anger, staring at Robbe and the cut on his forehead. 

“Got in a fight,” Robbe replied, his voice cold as steel. 

Senne took a step away, standing between both of them, his eyes darting between the two of them, in a silent standoff. Sander with his unbottled, protective anger and Robbe with his slow-burning, kindled anger that was still sitting in the pit of his stomach, over a year later. 

Sometime over the summer, Sander and his family had moved back and he knew that because Camille arrived back at school, pressing a kiss against Robbe’s cheek and reuniting with her old friends. Moyo had made a comment about her figure and Robbe had suddenly remembered every protective bone in his body, glaring at him with an intensity that shut him up with no joke. Robbe hadn’t seen Sander, only heard about him through vague talkings with Camille, and only texted him after hearing that he had been accepted to the art school he had always wanted to.

Even now that he moved into the flatshare, this was the first time that Robbe had run into Sander in any capacity, which, judging by the look on Senne’s face, was likely intentional.

“By who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Robbe replied. “The cops are on it.”

“The cops?!” Sander replied, growing louder, fiercer. With the number of times that Sander had been picked up by the cops, either through his hobby of spray-painting buildings or the handful of times that he left the house in the midst of an episode, he had quickly grown weary of the cops. Robbe had witnessed a few of them talk down to Sander, treat him poorly, but he knew that not all policemen were like that. But, Sander had been wary of them all the same and Robbe didn’t, _couldn’t_ , blame him in the slightest. 

But, the silent accusation, that Robbe didn’t understand, that Robbe was _naive_ , did make the hair at the nape of his neck stand up. “Yes. The cop picked me up off the floor and brought me home took my statement and promised to find the men that did this,” Robbe replied, swallowing. He tightened his hand around the neck of the bottle and moved towards his room, wanting to be alone with his drowning thoughts. 

“You can’t honestly believe that the cops are going to find who did this?” Sander spoke up. 

“So what?” Robbe snapped back. “Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. What are you going to do? Find the four people who did this and knock some sense into them, to make them see the wrong that they did?” 

“Yes!” 

“All that is going to end up doing is you being in jail,” Robbe snapped back. “Besides, what’s the entire point of the entire thing?”

“Guys,” Senne warned, but it went unheeded. 

“Robbe, they hurt you!”

“Well, so did you!” Robbe snapped, clenching the bottle so tight that it shook in his hand. Senne was still planted firmly between them, staying out of the conversation with his hands tucked behind his back, and there was a look of shock, dumb realization _painted_ over Sander’s face and it _hurt_ but tears were threatening to spill over his eyes and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop. “You seem to have forgotten that _you_ left me, remember? Not the other way around.”

“Robbe,” the blond whispered. 

“No!” Robbe snapped. “You knew for months that you and your family were moving to Paris and you just… you just left Sander, left without saying goodbye, left me feeling like an absolute idiot because I thought that I was one of your closest friends and you just _left_ me behind like I was nothing to you!” The tears were definitely spilling from his eyes now, and he didn’t care that Senne was there too, because he was unable to stop now. “I didn’t know what I did wrong for you to just leave like that, but you left and I tried to figure out why. All I got was unanswered texts and questions with no answers.” 

“Robbe,” Sander cut in, sounding broken. 

“I tried texting you to figure out what I could’ve _possibly_ done wrong to get that, I asked Senne, I asked Camille, and I still didn’t have an answer. Hell, I even called your parents to try and get in touch with you because I just wanted to _know_ ,” Robbe continued. “And, after what happened in that damn bathroom, you shook everything loose, turned my life upside down, and… brought out something that I’ve been running from for so long and I was willing to try to figure it all out. I didn’t care about Jens or anyone else because I had you and I always had you.” 

Through the tears, Robbe could see the look of realization, the shame in Sander’s green eyes, the tears welling on the corner of his eyes, the ones that made _this_ all worse, even though this fight, this talk, this _whatever this was_ had been welling in Robbe’s chest for too long, simmering beneath the surface. 

“But, you left, Sander,” Robbe whispered, hearing his own voice waver. He uncapped the bottle of whatever he ended up grabbing and took a swig, feeling the alcohol burn his throat and his chest rip open at the broken look on Sander’s face, one that pierced his gut and made him feel even worse. “You left without a word and you wouldn’t even tell me why.”

Sander opened his mouth, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize, but no words came out. Robbe had known the artist for so long that he knew every look that Sander could ever possibly make. He could tell from the look on Sander’s beautiful, breath-taking, stone-carved face, expressing every emotion that he was feeling in the safety that Robbe and Senne provided. He knew from the way his face contorted that he was sorry, could tell that he was trying not to cry from the way his shoulders shook, and could see the need to fix it all behind his green irises.

But, the anger that Robbe felt in his stomach only festered into sadness and he wanted to be in his room, in his bed, where he didn’t have to hold back the tears anymore. So, Robbe took another swig of the alcohol and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him as tears and sobs were ripped out of his chest, a loss growing in the spot that Sander used to make glow. 

* * *

“Sander!” 

With a box tucked under one arm and dragging a semi-mopey Senne behind him, Sander had been more than eager to get out of the flatshare, away from Robbe, away from the memory of the fight that ripped a hole through his heart, another reminder of how much Sander had hurt Robbe because he hadn’t been brave enough to say what he wanted to say. But, as luck would have it, Robbe was locking his bike to the rack outside as Sander loaded the box into the car, Senne into the passenger seat. 

As soon as he left the apartment complex, Sander had noticed him, because he always noticed him, but he didn’t want to be reminded of Robbe’s anger in his direction, of how much pain that he had caused the doe-eyed boy that he never wanted to hurt, wanted to get in the car and drive away before he caused any more pain and misery.

However, he wasn’t able to get away quick enough. 

After calling his name, Robbe jogged up to him and Sander was placing the last box into the back seat of Senne’s car, giving a glance to the man that was lingering outside of the car, the passenger side door open. A quick look was exchanged between Senne and Robbe, a silent communication that had developed over the weeks of living together, and the former said, spontaneously said, moving back towards the apartment complex, “I think I might’ve forgotten something in the living room.” 

And, then, they were alone. 

“Hey,” Robbe breathed out. 

“Hey,” Sander echoed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Standing an arm’s length away from him, Robbe looked a lot taller than he had been a few weeks ago. The cut on his forehead and the sunken expression in his eyes had all but disappeared, leaving only the confused, cautious look remained. It made Sander want to smile, but he thought of the bruises along Robbe’s chest, purple and wounded, and the anger, briefly, returned. “You’ve healed.”

Robbe blinked. “Oh, yeah.”

“Did they get the guys?”

“Yeah,” Robbe replied. “There’s going to be a trial, but I may or may not have to testify against them. But, the police officer that found me might be enough so I might not have to.” Sander nodded his head. “The bruises on my chest healed too. So…” he trailed off. “Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you. I know that you and Senne are trying to get out of here, but I was wondering if you wanted to meet up sometime… like at a bar or something? Just the two of us?”

Sander’s heart jumped as his stomach dropped. 

Sander swallowed. “I don’t know…” he whispered. There was nothing more than Sander wanted to do than repair this between them, his best childhood friend. He loved Senne with all his heart and soul, but Robbe had always hit _differently_. Senne had been a dutiful friend, been there for him, but Sander had still missed Robbe, his childhood friend. But, Sander knew how much he hurt Robbe, how much the brunet had been affected by Sander’s abrupt, unexplained leave, and how much that wouldn’t have changed so drastically in the span of a few weeks. “Robbe, the last time we ran into each other, we ended up blowing up at each other…” 

Robbe nodded his head. “I just want to talk, I promise,” Robbe replied. “I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that… Things were shit recently and the boys didn’t really care and…” Sander swallowed, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes because _of course, the boys wouldn’t care_ , and Robbe watched him, curiously. “And, I’m sorry that things blew up the way that they did.”

“Robbe,” Sander spoke up. “You have _nothing_ to apologize for.” 

“Yes, I do.”

“No,” Sander cut him off before he could talk himself into saying more ‘sorry’s. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Especially about what you feel. You were angry at me and I get why. You have every right to be.” Robbe stared at him with his wide doe-eyes that Sander wanted to get lost in and, swallowing, Sander continued, “But, you have a lot of anger bottled up and I get that… which is why I think we might need to stay away from each other for a while.” 

Robbe looked like he didn’t agree with that.

Sander tried to smile, and probably failed because his heart was ripping to shreds and he wanted nothing more than to fix this, between him and Robbe, but now… now just didn’t feel like the right time. Not for them, as friends and… as something more, “Maybe some space will do both of us some good.” 

Sander stepped away, to Senne’s car, unable to look into Robbe’s eyes and see the broken expression that he _knew_ was there and he felt a gentle tug on his elbow. 

Robbe. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, involuntarily or purposely, Sander wasn’t for sure. But, Robbe’s eyes bore into his own, a little bit of hope and a little bit of pain present in his eyes. Somehow, that makes Sander’s resolve break a little bit, but not as much as Robbe breathing out, “Haven’t we had enough space?” 

“Robbe,” Sander whispered. “All that anger doesn’t just go away in a few weeks…” He swallowed the knot in his throat and glanced up at Robbe’s eyes. “I don’t want you to have to push away that anger that you felt because you feel like you have to…” 

“I just want to talk, Sander.”

“Robbe.”

“Please,” Robbe spoke up, pulling on his leather jacket. “Please, there’s something I have to tell you.” 

“Robbe,” Sander replied. 

“I love you,” Robbe whispered.

Sander’s heart soared, the implication jumping in his throat, causing his ribcage to squeeze around his jumping heart, trying to keep it in his place, and he struggled to breathe, struggled to string together three words, because he knew that Robbe didn’t mean it in the same way that Sander meant it. Sander swallowed, looking back at him, the nervousness in Robbe’s eyes, as he looked up at him, “I love you too. But, that’s why we need some space.”

Robbe faltered, the brief joy in his eye quickly shifting to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Robbe,” the blond insisted. “All that anger doesn’t go away in a couple of weeks… and you don’t need to push away that anger because you feel like you have to.”

“Sander-”

“Robbe,” Sander spoke, shaking his head. “Don’t make it harder than it already is.” Robbe stared up at him with wide eyes, sorrow-filled in them, and the look broke Sander’s heart more. “You need some space from me, Robbe. There’s no need to deny it.” Robbe tilted his head, staring up at Sander, who tried his best to keep his emotions bottled inside his chest. He swallowed. “Having space will be a good thing.”

Robbe moved to open his mouth, likely to protest.

“For both of us,” Sander added, quickly. 

Sander knew that it was a lie. Since they were kids, Sander was always the best version of himself when Robbe was around. And, that hadn’t changed. Sander was still the best version of Sander when Robbe IJzermans was in his life, unconditionally supporting him. But, Sander had also been the one to cause all of that pain in his eyes, the pain that he finally got to fully see when they fought with Senne stuck in the middle. He couldn’t cause Robbe more pain. Not after all the pain that he already put him through. 

Part of Sander hoped for a protest, an assertion, but he knew Robbe well enough to know that he wouldn’t protest. “Okay,” Robbe whispered, his eyes dropping avoiding his gaze from Sander’s eyes. His hand dropped to Sander’s wrist, his palm lighting up a pool of heat against Sander’s wrist. “Maybe we can meet up sometime in a few months?”

“Maybe,” Sander replied. But, it didn’t sound likely.

* * *

“What happened?” Milan questioned.

Robbe let out a sigh, sliding to the floor, landing on the floor with his legs tucked to his chest. He could hear the sounds of Jens and Zoë in the living room, seriously how did _Jens_ beat him here?, and Robbe let out a heavy sigh, one that shook his entire core. Milan sent him a concerned glance as he stepped over him, looking down at his huddled form with a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“He didn’t believe me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for a time jump next chapter ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> We've made it to the second chapter of the _we've been through a lot of things, you and me_! Thank you guy so much for the positive reactions to this story, especially this trope which is near and dear to my heart. Hopefully, by the time that you guys are seeing this, I'll have a significant portion of chapter three completed! If not, then, oh well. I'm hoping to get a couple of things stockpiled because I will be taking the month of April off, Sobbe wise, to focus on my other story (for real, this time). But, we'll see how that goes because I love hearing from you all. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!

* * *

**Three Years Later**

* * *

The sand shifted beneath his feet, stepping one foot in front of the other. Sander could hear the laughter of his friends, Val talking about Sophie’s work and Senne laughing with one arm wrapped around Noor’s shoulder, but he was one step ahead of them, the camera held up to his face. He was taking pictures of any and everything. His friends, their smiles, the families and the children running around. Sander had loved being able to capture the world around him and he wasn’t about to stop now that his friends had managed to drag him away to a beach vacation, one final hurrah before they graduated in the spring and charted off to the workforce.

“Get any good pictures, Sander,” Senne questioned, patting his shoulder. His best friend pulled him beneath his other arm, a hard thing to manage because Sander had stopped being shorter than Senne in their first year of high school, but Sander hunched over to make it a little easier for him. Senne stared down his camera, at the portraits that he had captured on their walk back from the carnival at the pier, the sights in this small covered beach town. “You’re going to run out of room on your memory card before we’re even here a day!”

“Bold of you to assume that I didn’t bring my laptop,” Sander remarked. 

“Or his backup memory card,” Noor replied, her black hair pulled back on the nape of her neck. 

“Or his backup memory card for the backup,” Val remarked, his blond hair twisted into a messy bun on his head. The artist was easily the tallest of them all, the final remains of the blue streaks still evident in his hair, and had a bright, teasing grin on his face. 

Sophie poked up beneath Val’s arm, a bright grin on her face that looked like it could split the model’s face in two as she pointed an accusing finger at him. “Come on, Senne, it’s like you don’t know him at all!” Senne looked offended, freeing both Noor and Sander from his grasp. He tackled Sophie into the sand, taking a laughing Val with him, landing them flat on the sand beneath them. Noor wrapped an arm around Sander’s waist, rubbing his back. 

“I’m glad you were able to come,” she replied. Sander glanced over at her as she walked beside him, leaving their three friends behind and Luka trying to get them all off the ground, out of the sand. They were almost back at the hotel that Senne had booked. He wondered briefly if the groups in the surrounding houses had arrived yet, and what might happen, knowing Senne’s affinity for making friends with anyone and everyone that they come in contact with. “I know it’s been tough on you these past few weeks.” 

That was a bit of an understatement. 

The mist that always followed an episode had finally lifted. He had spent the majority of a week in bed with his roommates checking in on him, bringing him food that he didn’t always eat. Between Noor and Val, they had taken care of his editing for the handful of photoshoots that he had to get back and Sander had always been grateful for them being able to understand that he couldn’t control his episodes. Between her shoots and her work, Sophie had made sure that he was taken care of and Senne had spent one or two nights with him in Sander’s bed, simply so he could have someone to be with him. 

He didn’t like feeling like a burden to his friends, but he couldn’t help feeling that way when they changed their schedules, so they made sure that they could all check on him with their normal schedules and that helped a little bit. But, he also wished that they wouldn’t worry about him.

“I’m good, Noor, I promise,” Sander replied, flipping out of the gallery so he could take more photos on the last remaining stint of their journey back to the hotel. Despite the sunscreen that they had put on, Sander could tell that his shoulders were stiff, a sunburn was definitely coming or starting, and Noor’s cheeks were flushed from the heat beating down on them.

“I know,” Noor replied. “I just worry about you.” 

“I know,” Sander remarked, moving to hold the camera to his face. Through the lens, he spotted a large group of people up ahead, in front of their hotel, likely the other members of the other hotel, and he dragged his camera towards one of the lone figures at the edge of the water. He could hear the others catching up, felt Noor turn away to them, and Sander went back to taking pictures of anything and everything. 

But, this time, it was a tall guy with blond curls and a flower shirt on his shoulders, completely unbuttoned and a pair of shorts and a pair of sunglasses on his face. He was talking to someone with short brown curly hair, who had his back facing them and used a lot of arm movements, and they were both standing in the water with the waves beating at their knees, and with the sunset behind the two of them, the grins on the guy’s face, it was a perfect shot. 

At least, it _would’ve_ been until someone catapulted into him, knocking them off balance and falling him into the water, beneath the water’s surface. Silently shrugging his shoulders at a picture that he had missed, he moved, twisting to find his friends, to take a picture of them with their arms all around each other as they tried to catch up with Sander and Noor, who had started to walk slower so they could catch up. The four of them, Senne and Val and Sophie and Luka, seemed to realize that the camera was on them and slightly posed and Sander captured their image.

And, then, Sander heard that _goddamned_ laugh and “Robbe!”

Even without the use of his name, Sander could’ve picked out the laugh anywhere. It was a giggle that was ripped from the chest of its owner, light and happy and joyous, and it caused Sander to turn, to seek out the origin of it because he needed to see to believe it, taking his camera with him. 

And, sure enough, through the camera lens, there he was.

Robbe was standing near the spot that the guy with the blond curls had been standing, his shirt drenched and clinging to his skin, his brown hair sticking to his forehead and a grin beating over his face, overtaking his face and scrunching up his eyes. The blond that had surfaced splashed him with water and Robbe replied by kicking water back, laughing as the blond shot out of the water, knocking them both back beneath the waves, their laughs cut short swallowed by the motion in the water.

It had been three years since Sander had last seen Robbe in person outside the flatshare, the two of them had texted, of course, Robbe trying to make plans so they could meet up and Sander unable to turn him away but they all failed to follow through on the promises to meet up, sometimes by Sander, sometimes by Robbe, and Sander was partially thankful because he wouldn’t be able to turn Robbe away again … and Robbe deserved so much more and better than Sander could ever provide, both as a friend and as something _more_. Yet, one look at Robbe, resurfacing above the water and shoving his bangs off his forehead, splashing water at the blond-curly-haired man, made it seem as though these past three years had only actually been a week or two. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

His feelings for Robbe were too powerful and persistent to have simply faded from his mind with no contact in three years.

“Sander?” 

Senne. 

Sander turned to him, spotting the look of confusion on the brunet’s face as well, his eyes flickering over to the group in the ocean. Robbe’s laughter had resurfaced and Sander could see the calculation in his friend’s eye, but his eyes flickered, widening in shock and a little bit of heartbreak, one that Sander knew all too well and one that could only be caused by one person, and Sander pivoted to see a group of girls sprawled out on the beach, laying back on towels. 

Zoë.

And, Milan was right beside her.

“What is it?” Noor questioned, confused, her eyes darting between the two of them. 

“Nothing,” the two best friends spoke, probably too quickly. Noor raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest, and Senne grinned at her, wrapping an arm around her, pressing a kiss against her temple before stating, “I promised to be your fake boyfriend, remember?” Noor wasn’t convinced and Sander wasn’t sure that Senne was either, glancing at his platinum-haired friend with a shrug of his shoulders. “Come on, we can’t avoid it forever.”

“I can try,” Sander mumbled. Noor sent them a silent look, _explain later_ , carved over her face, but let herself be dragged away with Senne. Sander let out a sigh, moving after them, and his eyes caught sight of Robbe’s movement on the edge of the water. 

Whatever laughter lines had formed on his face were gone, his brown eyes glazing over and connecting with Sander’s green ones. The blond-haired guy was climbing out of the water and the brown-haired one that Sander didn’t recognize was nearly doubled over in laughter. But, Robbe kept his eyes locked with Sander’s as he stripped off his shirt in one fluid movement, almost like a dancer, and twisted the fabric in his hands, the ocean water spilling over his hands into the water back below. His brown eyes were pained, but he refused to look away from Sander first.

Sander let out a breath, looking away, feeling his eyes roll in the back of his head, a groan lightly escaping his lips as his throat went impossibly dry, trying to smother the thoughts in his head. _You’ve got to be_ ** _fucking_** _kidding me._

* * *

Robbe knew what his friends were doing. 

They weren’t being subtle. 

In the past five hours, the longest five hours of his life, his friends absolutely refused to leave him alone. Literally. Jens occupied him to the public bathrooms not far from their hotel, pulling him along like he was just a simple rag doll. When Sander returned to the campfire with Senne and Noor behind him, talking in hushed whispers to one another, Zoë had loudly announced that Robbe was going to help her with cooking, dragging him up from his spot, getting sand in his shoes and in the pocket of his shorts, and Milan followed them. When Robbe’s mom called him and Robbe escaped to the beach, Moyo had stood up to meet him followed him, lingering a few steps away and Robbe glared at him.

In all honesty, he didn’t know if he should thank them or glare at them to stay away. 

“Robbe? Sweetheart, are you there?” his mother questioned, pulling him briefly from his thoughts. Moyo was still lingering a couple of steps away, glancing back towards the campfire over the dunes, and Robbe let his eyes flicker over to it. He could make out Sander’s platinum-blond hair, the fire lighting it up, and he could hear his laughter vaguely in the wind, and he let out a sigh. It sparked the worry in his mom. “Robbe, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Mama,” Robbe breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “Just a little tired from surfing is all.” They haven’t surfed yet, that was tomorrow afternoon, but Robbe didn’t want to worry about his mother anymore. He shuffled his hair again, a nervous tick that he developed long ago when he thought about Sander. “Alright, I have got to go. Jens is giving me that look like he wants me to rescue him from the girls.”

“Alright, sweetheart, tell Jens hello for us.”

“Bye Robbe!” his brother shouted from across the room, slightly muffled. 

“Goodbye,” Robbe mumbled, hanging up the phone call and shoved his phone in his pocket. He crouched down, digging his elbows into his knees, and buried his face into the palms of his head. The resulting groan that he emitted was barely muffled by the skin and he didn’t care. The campfire was too far away to hear it and Moyo was the only one around. 

The sand shifted beside him, Moyo’s muffled footsteps moving towards him, before he felt his friend’s hand on his shoulder, clamping down tighter as he kneeled beside him. Robbe opened the fingers over his eyes so stare at Moyo, who was looking at him worriedly. “You okay, man?” Robbe shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I know,” Robbe whispered, letting out a sigh, putting his head between his knees “I just… I thought I was over it. I thought I had gotten over it all, the feelings, him just leaving, him leaving again, but then he shows up… and it’s all brought out again.” Moyo patted his back. “ _Fuck_ , it feels like it’s only been a week, not three years.”

But, it had been three years, three and a half, technically, yet the pain of it all was still there present in his chest, ripping through him with renewed force. The pain that followed the initial confusion ripped through his stomach, the second wave of him returning and trying to act like it never happened was like a stab in the side, and the final stab in his shoulder, near his heart, outside the flatshare when Robbe confessed his feelings but Sander didn’t believe him, hurt as bad as it did then. Robbe ran his hands through his hair, his fingers catching on the strands so hard that it pulled at his scalp. 

“It’s okay,” Moyo spoke, patting his shoulder. “We can stay as long as we need to.” 

Three and a half years ago, their relationship had been one of Robbe’s rockiest. 

First, he was jealous of Moyo for stealing his best friend’s time, especially when Jens seemed more interested in hanging out with Moyo than with Robbe. Then, with every homophobic remark that came at a time where he was still confused about who he was, Robbe retreated further into himself, hiding the fact that he liked guys, that he liked Sander, that he was attracted to Jens, until he finally snapped one-by-one, at Sander in the flatshare that day, at the Broerrrs, at the girls. When Moyo finally accepted him and apologized for the remarks, wanting to get better and the last of his friends to do so after he came out, Robbe felt safe and comfortable for the first time in his own skin.

It was why…

Robbe let out a shaky breath, settling onto the sand. Moyo followed suit, glancing towards the campfire where the others were waiting, before returning his gaze back to Robbe. There was a knowing look on his face as he questioned, “You still love him?” Robbe sent him a look, almost a glare. “What, Robbe? It’s a genuine question that needs to be asked and you _know_ it.” 

“Yes,” Robbe whispered, looking towards the ocean. “Of course, I do.” 

Somehow, the confession felt like a sudden weight lifted from his shoulders and an impending doom piercing his soul. Robbe bit his lip, glancing back to the fire. Even from this far away, he could hear the strums of Senne’s guitar and the sound of everyone singing a song that was almost unintelligible from all the voices. He could still see Sander, platinum-blond hair who had another guitar perched on his leg, nudging Senne with his knee and laughing. Robbe always hated that, that Sander could charm everyone into believing that he was okay when he wasn’t. 

Well, except for Robbe. 

Even after three and a half years, Robbe could still pinpoint and identify all of the microexpressions on Sander’s features. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he could tell that Sander was equally as thrown as Robbe was. Once Robbe had taken off his shirt to get the excess water out, so it wouldn’t be dripping for thirty minutes, he had seen Sander’s frustrated, maybe even aroused glance in his direction before he turned away and the steely, guarded, and jealous expression as Noor bounced over to him, pressed a kiss against his cheek, holding him tightly in her arms. 

Like Sander’s sudden appearance at the beach, the emotions that those expressions produced were conflicted and unexpected. There was the initial sudden weight on his shoulders, the pain, the reminder of what happened, and it had been absolutely suffocating. But, the jealous look on his face that he had seen a few times before, the look of arousal that he remembered so vividly from the bathtub, it had brought back an emotion that he hadn’t felt, at least in regards to Sander, since that day outside the flatshare, since Robbe had been so willing to risk it all again, since that day standing outside of the school waiting for him: hope.

And, if so, that was more dangerous than the weight on his shoulders because Robbe felt like he was setting himself up for disappointment, hoping that Sander would stay, only to be crushed when he would inevitably leave again, disappearing out of Robbe’s life like the end of a song, the melody fading away into that uncomfortable silence where the music had once been, waiting on the next song to switch on. 

But, with Sander, the next song never seemed to come on, leaving him in that perpetual awkward silence between the fading of one song and opening of another. Robbe could never stop hoping that _maybe_ he’d come back around and _maybe_ he’d stay and _maybe_ the melody (a David Bowie song like _Rebel, Rebel_ ) would pick up again and Sander would be back. 

But, it never did. 

That was why Jens was so pissed that he had shown up on the beach, acting like nothing had happened, armed with a glare that was capable of leveling a small city. Whenever Robbe had reached out to Sander but the blond never responded, when plans fell through, when Robbe didn’t understand what was happening or why Sander wasn’t responding, Jens had been there with him. Jens had been by his side, trying to encourage him. But, Jens didn’t want to nudge him in a direction that would only end in pain. Sometimes, Robbe couldn’t help feeling that Jens was right, that being with Sander would only end up with him getting hurt and left behind again.

But, there was a part of Robbe, the part that had raced after Sander during his first episode, the part that slept in the hospital lobby with Camille curled into his side as Katrijn went back with Sander, the part that flared to life in that bathroom, that always wanted to believe that Sander would come back around. Most of the time, that part of Robbe always ended up hurting him more than Sander ever could.

“Robbe?” Moyo reached out to shake his shoulder. 

Robbe let a sigh, wiping away at the tears that had sprung to the edges of his eyes. “Sorry, I got lost in my own thoughts for a bit.” 

Moyo nodded his head, like he understood, and Robbe sucked in a breath, wiping the back of his hand against the fabric of his shorts. “You know, Robbe,” Moyo spoke up, sounding hesitant. Robbe tore his eyes from the ocean. “I know that he hurt you a lot. But, it’s obvious that you still want him. You want to be with him. You always have. If that’s something that you want to do, you should go for it. Don’t give a fuck about what everyone else thinks. Even Jens or Zoë.” 

Robbe glanced over at his friend. “And, if I get hurt in the process?”

Moyo shrugged his shoulders. “You’re going to get hurt either way,” he replied. “You’re hurt when you reach out, you’re hurt when you don’t… The two of you are both here on this vacation for at least a week. Possibly even two weeks. It’s not like he can avoid you the entire time you’re both here. At least if you reach out and he rejects you to your face, you’ll know what you need to know.”

Robbe nodded his head, turning towards him.

“That was very wise, Moyo.”

Moyo snickered. “I am wise, Robbe.” His friend stood to his feet, wiping the sand off of his shorts and reaching out a hand to Robbe. “Come on, if we don’t get back to the campfire, Jens is going to worry that I tried to drown you in the ocean.” Robbe laughed, taking his hand and pushing himself to his feet. He lagged behind Moyo, running a hand through his hair. 

As they stepped closer to the fire, Sander glanced up from his guitar, his gaze as hot and fiery as Robbe remembered but curious. Then, suddenly, Lucas was on his feet, grabbing Robbe’s wrists and pulling him into an embrace, wait, _no_ … he knew this move… In the rare times that the four of them had gotten a chance to hang out, before Lucas and Jens had officially started dating, Kes used to grab Lucas and do something similar, wrap an arm around him, and dance.

It was one of the rare times that Robbe had the pleasure of seeing Jens _jealous_.

But, now, Jens seemed largely unconcerned as Lucas wrapped an arm around Robbe’s waist, pulling him closer to his chest, and Robbe knew this fact because he looked. Jens had one arm wrapped around Zoë’s shoulders continuing to tell Jana and Amber an outrageous story. He had glanced at them, briefly, but he had winked at Robbe, like he knew something that the brunet didn’t.

“Lucas, what the hell!” Robbe hissed, silently, stiff in Lucas’s arms. 

A Cheshire-Cat-like grin formed over Lucas’s features and it honestly scared the hell out of Robbe. Lucas _was_ an attractive man. After all, Robbe was gay and even if he wasn’t, he had _eyes_. But, all the eyes on them made him extremely nervous, and muscles stiff, in Lucas’s arms. He could hear the small chatter of the people around them, the continued story of Jens, acting like this was something that always happened, when it certainly was _not_ , and Robbe had to resist the urge to _bolt_ back to the ocean. 

“Relax, Robbe,” Lucas mumbled, a grin present on his face. He was trying to keep his voice low and Robbe stared up at him, slightly glaring. “Jens knew I was going to do this. _Hell_ , he practically offered to do it himself. Besides, I’ll make it up to him later.”

With a wave of his eyebrows, Robbe had to fight off a shiver down his spine, “ _T_ _oo much information_ , VDH. You know we have a deal about not talking about the fact that you and my best friend are-” He couldn’t even say it because a violent shiver ripped through his spine as Lucas wrapped his arm tighter around him, shifting them around on their toes, swaying the softer music being played on the guitars. “Why are you even doing this anyway?”

“I don’t know, Robbe,” Lucas replied, tilting his head to the side. “ _Why_ would I be doing this?”

For a split second, he doesn’t know. But, then, his eyes flickered over in the direction of Senne and Noor and the others before landing on Sander, who was still sitting in the same spot and strumming his guitar with a little more force than before. His friends were watching him worriedly and only Noor cracked a quizzingly eyebrow in Robbe and Lucas’s direction.

_Oh._

Robbe let out a sigh, tossing his head back. “Fuck, you really are a Slytherin, aren’t you?” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lucas replied beaming before he spun the smaller boy around, causing Robbe to laugh, the giggle ripped from his chest. 

* * *

Sander absent-mindedly strummed the extra guitar that Senne had brought along for him. It had been one of Senne’s calming habits, like art was for Sander. But, currently, all Sander wanted to draw was Robbe, the curve of his cheekbones, the curl of his hair, and that only made the jealousy swirling in his stomach all the more intense. Every time he drew, he thought of Robbe, of Robbe dancing with Lucas (that’s the name that Senne managed to find), of Robbe wrapped in his arms.

Of course, Sander had no right to be jealous of a long-legged blond-haired guy from the Netherlands, but that didn’t stop the jealousy swarming in his gut, making nausea flood his system. He had called it a night earlier than the rest of them, taking the extra guitar with him and shoving himself into his bed, wrapping the covers around him. By the time that Sander had managed to slip into sleep, Senne had come back to the room to check on him three times and Sander pretended to be asleep all three times. 

But, once sleep finally came, his mind thrust him into dreams of what might’ve been, in another universe per Robbe’s favorite infinite universes theory, of Robbe beneath him, his legs wrapped around his waist, kissing his lips until they were sore and red and swollen, whining when Sander dragged his teeth against the vein of his throat that he _still_ knew was there, but it’s only when Robbe’s, dream Robbe’s, hands slid to his belt that he remembered that it was all a dream and he bolted up, nearly knocking his head on the slats of Senne’s bed. 

Sander searched for his phone, finding it attached to the white charger cord that wasn’t his, and found a couple of messages from his friends, asking if he was okay, from Camile asking how the beach house was, and one from Eliott, asking about his next visit to France. But, the time was glaring at him: _5:00_. Letting out a groan, Sander moved to get out of bed and in desperate need of a shower. 

That’s how he ended up on the beach, with partially wet hair and Senne’s extra guitar on his knee. The rest of everyone would be up soon, it was almost 7:00 now, and he would have to answer questions as to why he had turned in so early. Sander knew that he didn’t have to explain to Senne, maybe even Noor, but he didn’t want to admit the truth. 

Even after all these years, Robbe could still affect him so profoundly. 

“Hey.” Sander jumped, turning to find Robbe behind him. The brunet was dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a shirt that was a little big on him, not as much as his shirts used to be, and there was a nervous, cautious look on his face. Sander’s stomach turned into knots as Robbe stepped closer to him. Once he was close enough, Robbe flopped down in the sand beside him, crossing his legs beneath him and glancing over at him quizzingly. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

* * *

Robbe couldn’t believe his luck.

He had been hoping to go on a walk, a simple walk before the others woke up and started yammering about breakfast. He needed to figure out what he was going to do, about his feelings, about Sander, everything, anything. After going to bed, Robbe had been awake for about an hour, trying to psych himself up to talk to Sander in the morning. There had been a hole in his life, a missing piece that he could never quite find the right fit for. 

The past three years had been _good_. After college, Nathan had returned back to Antwerp, moving into a flat with his friends about a block away from Robbe and their mother. Since his return, Robbe had dinner with Nathan once a week, just the two of them. Since his move back into the flatshare, he also made a point of visiting his mom for dinner twice a week and both sons made an effort to make it to her favorite lunchtime on Saturday. He had boyfriends, one night stands, and Grinder flings. His relationship with the Broerrrs (and the girls) was stronger than it had ever been in high school. 

But, there was still that hole, the nagging feeling in the back of his chest, as he passed by a piece of street art on his track to his university, taking out his phone to snap a picture, get to the point of almost sending it to one person, Sander, and hesitating before pressing send. And, as much pain as it had been in the end, after he moved to Paris, Robbe knew that _Sander_ had been that missing piece that he couldn’t quite fill. 

“Yeah, something like that,” Sander remarked, his voice sounding as tired as he looked, bringing Robbe out of his thoughts. 

His shoulders were slumped and his hair was fluffy like he had just taken a shower. There were dark black circles beneath his eyes, a sullen expression on his face, and Robbe felt himself frown as he looked over at him. He could see that the armor that Sander wrapped himself with was gone, at least temporarily. That hadn’t changed in three and a half years… Sander’s hands fiddled nervously with the strings of the guitar that was perched delicately on his knee. 

“When did you learn to play the guitar?” Robbe questioned, eager to make conversation, hoping to get him to start talking, to relax. Robbe had too many questions and he didn’t want to talk about it right away, to scare Sander off just when he got him back. His eyes flickering down to their knees which were close, barely apart from each other, and it would be _so_ easy to reach out and touch him… but he was terrified of what might happen. Would Sander press his knee back against his or would he flinch away?

“Uhh,” Sander spoke up, barely glancing over to him. “When Senne and I moved in together, he used to always play in the living room and I would sketch the chords for practice with hands because they were always my weakest part, you remember, right?” Robbe nodded his head, remembering the number of times that Robbe had spent an afternoon in his bedroom with Sander posing his hand so he could take a picture and draw it later. “After a while, we weren’t home as much and I started learning it so I could do it myself and I don’t know, guess it just stuck.”

Robbe laughed, resting his elbow on his knee. “I’m not surprised. You were always good at picking up new things.”

A grin formed briefly across Sander’s face, lighting up his features, making him look a little less tired. There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “I never could pick up skateboarding though.” 

“Yeah, not like you managed to get much practice in. Remember you used to spasm every time I moved to help you balance,” Robbe remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so ticklish before.”

“Yeah, but that’s because…” Sander started, but he stopped himself from speaking any further. He bit down on his lip and swallowed. “Ah, nevermind,” he whispered, moving back to strumming the guitar to fill the silence that had formed between them. Robbe sucked in a breath, feeling his shoulders begin to sink. _They were doing so well…_ “How’s Mom?” Sander spoke up.

“Good,” Robbe remarked. “She was released before Christmas and she had to go back about a year ago because her meds were messed up. But, she’s doing good, back to work and everything.” Sander nodded his head, strumming a chord or two. “And Camille? Mom? Your dad? I haven’t heard anything about them since I graduated…”

“They’re good,” Sander replied. “Mom finally kicked Dad out about six months ago.” Robbe felt his eyes widen, looking up at Sander, but the blond didn’t acknowledge his look or see it. “And, Camille is going to uni in the Netherlands. She’s taking online classes this summer or she would’ve come with.”

“Oh,” Robbe replied, unsure of what to say. “That’s amazing. I didn’t realize that Camille had been accepted to a university in the Netherlands.” 

Sander nodded his head, looking a little sullen. He stopped strumming the guitar, taking it off of his knees and setting it to the side. However, he still didn’t look fully to Robbe, staring out into the ocean instead, but the brunet couldn’t take his eyes off of Sander. “Yeah, she puts a lot on herself with Mom and Dad and everything so going to a university out of the country was the best decision for her.” 

Robbe nodded his head, letting the silence drag out between them. His eyes flickered down to Sander’s knee which was still a breath away from his own and shifted so their knees would press together. Sander sucked in a deep breath, his eyes flickering over to Robbe’s for the first time, vulnerable green eyes connecting brown ones in a stare that pierced through his body. Sander’s knee shifted against his own, pressing further against him, purposeful and obvious. 

“Sander…” Robbe trailed off, staring at Sander who was waiting for him to reply back. His mind struggled to come up with the question that he wanted to ask first because Sander was looking at him like _that_ again. With a simple look, he seemed to have been catapulted four years back, back into that bathroom, before Sander leaned over and changed everything, vulnerable and… now, in something that Robbe’s sober mind could identify, holding himself back. Swallowing, Robbe managed to force out, “Why didn’t you ever want to meet up with me?” 

Sander glanced away, biting down on his lip, trying to figure out what to say, and Robbe waited patiently. Even if it was frustrating, he had waited years for an answer and he could wait a little bit longer for Sander to collect his thoughts. As long as he got an answer… Then, he turned towards Robbe, his mouth falling open and a weak, strangled, “Robbe”, escaped from his mouth. 

But, before he could say anything else, Lucas shouted, somewhere behind them, “Hey, Robbe! What do you want for breakfast? Zoë’s making a tally.”

Both of them pivoted to spot Lucas moving towards him. Despite the fact that the blond, curly-haired guy was fully dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt, Robbe could still spot the fucked-out look on his face and the fact that he hadn’t bothered to brush his hair yet. There was a protective look in his blue eyes as they flickered between him and Sander, an unexpected by-product of Lucas dating Jens, and Sander shifted beside him, removing their knees from where they were flushed together. 

Robbe exhaled. It was only a minor consultation that Lucas sent him a guilty look. “I’ll take whatever they decide.” Lucas nodded his head, his eyes flickering back over to Sander before he was moving back to the hotel where he could vaguely hear people bickering. Robbe turned back to Sander, who wasn’t looking at him anymore, his eyes on the ocean and his legs curled to his chest. Whatever Sander was going to say, Lucas had interrupted it. “Hey, Sander.”

His green eyes were back on him again, curious and confused. 

“I know some of the others are thinking about going to a club sometime this week. Did you want to come with?” he questioned, watching the debate in Sander’s eyes. Robbe swallowed, hard, trying not to sound too desperate as he added, “Maybe we can continue this talk there, or sometime later?” 

Sander swallowed, his eyes flickering away from him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think that Noor was talking about going to look at some street art and I don’t really know the plans. I’m just kind of a follower, you know.” 

Robbe nodded his head, trying his best to not look too disappointed. He wanted answers, arguably _needed_ them, because he wanted to know why, why Sander had left originally, why he insisted on needing space, why he didn’t believe Robbe’s confession, because he _loved_ him. If seeing him again, watching him across the fire had done _anything_ , it showed that Robbe still loved Sander as much as he did then. 

Someone, Sophie, or maybe Noor, called for Sander and he stood, giving Robbe a small, insecure smile before grabbing the guitar and heading off to the hotel.

* * *

Stepping into the club, the bass of the music drummed around him. 

His friends walked ahead of him with Sander trailing behind them. Senne had one arm wrapped around Noor, pretending to be the new-and-in-love couple that they had committed themselves to be. Even in a group of friends, Val and Sophie were in their own personal bubble, still love-struck and in love. And, Luka was glancing around the club, his eyes lingering on someone in the crowd. At the bar, Senne ordered some beers and threw a glance in Sander’s direction, worried and cautious. 

Sander let out a sigh.

Tonight was supposed to be the night that Sander focused on his friends, hung out with him and wasn’t distracted by anything else. The six of them had elected to spend the evening together, which Sander was silently thrilled about. The group of them had gone to see the street art and had been hopping between nightclubs since they had run out of places to go. Sander had wanted to focus on his friends, to hang out with him one-hundred-percent, but… 

Even in this nightclub, with the pounding bass of their third night club, the only thing that Sander could think about was _Robbe_. 

Since their talk in the sand dunes, Sander had yet to be completely alone with Robbe. Half of it by Sander’s own design because he wasn’t for sure if he had a good answer for Robbe’s interrupted question, ‘ _Why didn’t you ever want to meet up with me?’_. The other half by Jens Stoffels insisting to never leave them alone, going so far as to stay up later until one of them went to bed. In opposite, Sander could tell that Robbe was _trying_ to get him alone, staying up later than the others, trying to time it right so they would be walking in the same direction at the same time. 

The thought of being alone with Robbe was _terrifying_ to Sander. Robbe could bring up his question again and Sander would fumble for a good answer because he couldn’t tell Robbe the truth about it. The truth that Sander was so irrevocably in love Robbe in the head-over-heels, all-the-way-or-no-way that he always lived his life. He had hoped that having space between them would lessen the love in his heart, so they could go back to the way they had been before the bathroom, the teasing and the comfortableness that they shared, before Sander took it a step too far, undoing his belt after Robbe’s gentle nod and making Robbe moan into the heel of his hand. 

But, things hadn’t changed. Sander was still in too deep, head-over-heels, all-the-way-or-no-way.

“Here,” Senne spoke, snapping him out of reality. His fingers opened up Sander’s enclosed hand, placing a bottle of beer in his grip. Sander glanced up at his best friend, because Sander _shouldn’t_ be having any alcohol, because it fucked with his medication, for _countless_ other reasons, but Senne shook his head, a silent thought communicated between them. Don’t fight. Not tonight. You need it. 

Even though he shouldn’t, Sander did feel like he needed _something_.

Taking a sip of the beer, his eyes glanced through the crowd of people dancing, searching for _someone_ that he knew, Zoë or Jens or Moyo, someone to tell him that Robbe was here. Moyo had been the one to formally invite them to a party that Lucas had been invited to, but Senne had been the one to decline. Noor wanted to go see street art and school their friends on the act of spray-painting with Sander as her teaching assistant and she had been insisting on doing it on Wednesday. 

But, despite being thrilled that they weren’t all going out in a club together, Sander still found himself leaning against the wooden bar, nursing a glass of beer and searching the crowd for one brown-haired skater-boy that had the single solitary key to his guarded heart. 

In every version of reality, finding Robbe in a club was a double-edged sword. If he saw Robbe having fun with his friends, Sander knew that he had made the right decision, insisting on space but never reaching back out to him, and it stung because Sander missed Robbe in his life. But, it would also mean that Robbe was better off without him, that Robbe’s life was better off without Sander in it, and somehow that’s just as bad as Sander having made the right decision. It was a fucked up double-edged sword of truth, piercing him in the stomach and leaving him bleeding out against the bar.

A hand clasped his shoulder, Senne with one arm wrapped around Noor, practically shouting over the pounding music to be heard, “Sander! You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Sander promised, leaning against the bar, looking down at his mostly-full glass of beer. “Just a little lost in my thoughts, you know?” Senne nodded his head but didn’t press further. He patted his shoulder again before turning back to the group, a silent gesture of _I understand_ and _take your time_. Senne knew him well enough, knew that he didn’t want to talk _here_. The minute the two of them were alone, Senne would get what was on his mind out of him, wrap him in a hug, and rub his back like the friend he was. 

Senne brought the bottle to his lips, taking another drink and scanning the club. 

His eyes found Zoë first. It wasn’t hard to find her, she was sitting at the other end of the bar, with her hair half-tied back and her lips colored a deep red. She was talking in hushed whispers with Amber, who was tucked beneath Aaron’s arm, and Moyo. At the sight of the two guys, a small feeling of dread formed in the pit of his stomach and he searched the crowd with more intention. He quickly spotted Jana was in the midst of the crowd, dancing with Luca, twirling each other with wide grins. 

Next, he found Jens and he felt his eyes widen considerably. The black-haired man was in the midst of the dance floor, dressed in his typical hoodie and a pair of denim jeans, but his dance partner _wasn’t_ who he was expecting. Lucas clutched to the fabric of Jens’ hoodie, their forehead pressed together and swaying to the music fluidly. The two of them were lost in their own world, whispering to each other, grinning at the music before Lucas tilted his head up and Jens met him in a kiss, a kiss like they always did, a kiss like it was one-hundred-percent natural. 

Sander felt completely stupid for being jealous of Lucas. Of _course_ , Jens’s boyfriend would be really close to Robbe. Sander expected nothing different from the dynamic that Robbe and Jens shared. The two of them had always been close. It made sense that one’s partner would be close to their best friend as well.

Pulling his eyes from Jens and Lucas, his eyes returned to scanning the crowd, still hunting and searching for the brown-haired man he wanted to see. After he searched the crowd, his eyes skirted around the edges of the room. He found a group of girls talking excitedly to one another, a boy flirting with a girl against the wall (and judging from the look on her face _hopelessly_ failing to do so), two guys making out against a wall, five guys being loud and obnoxious as they eyed someone in the crowd, a girl that was eyeing Sander like… _wait a minute._

His muddled mind caught up with what he had seen, his eyes flickering two groups back, to the two guys making out against the wall, focusing fully on the two of them. They weren’t far away from where Sander was standing, far enough to be out of the realm of conversation, but close enough that Sander could see them clearly. One was larger than the other, lifting the smaller one against the wall, one hand on his thigh to brace him, but the man himself was nothing special, black hair, beefy arms, pinning the other fulling against the wall, kissing the daylights out of him.

But, the smaller guy was… Robbe.

Sander was certain he stopped breathing. 

Robbe’s hair was all messed up from Mr. Nothing-Special, black-haired muscle-man running his absurdly large hands through his hair. His shirt was wrinkled and, from what Sander could tell, he was wearing one of the few pairs of denim jeans that might’ve actually _fit_ him. Robbe was kissing the man as his life depended on doing so, clinging to his hair in one hand and his bicep in the other, his legs wrapped around the man’s hips, locked at the ankles, keeping the man in place against him.

But, his eyes…

While every other part of Robbe’s body, including his lips, were focused solely on the black-haired man in his arms, the black-haired, nothing-special man who was doing everything Sander _wanted_ to do, Robbe’s brown eyes were wide open and focused on someone else entirely. 

_Him._

Standing at the edge of the bar, gripping on the aluminum beer bottle, Sander felt his heart pick up a little and his throat began to dry up. But, he couldn’t raise his hand to take a drink because he was too focused on maintaining eye-contact with Robbe. Over the past couple of days, the two of them had stolen glances at each other, eyes connecting across the beach or the fire, but none of those, not one, compared to _this_ stare, right here, right now.

This stare was different, a silent challenge in his wide-doe eyes. This stare screamed a message, one that only Sander could possibly decode, _you should be the one kissing me_. Somehow, maybe it was the beer in his system or the desperation in his bones, but Sander couldn’t help feeling that he was right. Even Robbe kissed Mr. Nothing-Special, even as Robbe tugged at the black strands of his hair, even as Mr. Nothing-Special pressed bruises down Robbe’s jaw and neck and Robbe’s head tilted back in pleasure, his brown eyes never flickered away from Sander, never longer than a simple blink, and the entire situation was drinking Sander mad. 

_And, Robbe knew it_.

Unable to rip his gaze away from the scene in front of him, Sander realized that he couldn’t stand in this club any longer, blindly reaching for the area where Senne had last been. Even if Sander was unable to back away from a challenge, _especially_ when it came from Robbe, he couldn’t keep the act up. He couldn’t keep acting like he wasn’t affected by the sight of Robbe making out with someone else, grinding against someone else, in a club. Robbe knew, of course; even in the dimness of the club, Sander could make out the knowing glint in his eye. In his chest, Sander’s heart twisted, his stomach convulsed, and he had to hold back his basic instinct to rip Mr. Nothing-Special’s hands off of Robbe and press his lips against Robbe’s swollen ones like he was drowning. 

And, he _was_ drowning, that is, in want and need for _Robbe_ , for Robbe’s legs around his waist, for their lips to be pressed together again, for Robbe’s fingers tugging on the strands of his hair, for Robbe’s tongue against his own. He didn’t care what his friends thought or what Robbe’s friends thought. His entire body vibrated in want and need to cross the room, rip Robbe from his arms, and carry him outside. 

But, Sander still remembered what happened last time, the last time that Sander gave into that need and want for Robbe. He still remembered the pain and hurt that followed, present in Robbe’s eyes as he yelled at Sander in the hallway of the flatshare. And, Sander couldn’t do that again. Sander couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , be the cause of that pain. Robbe deserved the world and so much more, so much more than Sander could ever hope to provide. All Sander could deliver was pain and Robbe deserved none of it. 

He needed to get out of there. 

“What’s going on?” Senne spoke, his hand grasping Sander’s. He could hear the concerned tone in his friend’s voice, but even now, Sander couldn’t turn away from Robbe’s challenging brown eyes. Mr. Nothing-Special was unaware that Robbe was looking elsewhere, continuing to suck multiple bruises into the flesh of Robbe’s neck. He was also _especially_ unaware that the upturn of Robbe’s lips _weren’t_ from the pleasure that he was experiencing, but had to do with the effect that it was having on Sander.

The blond knew it.

If anyone knew the effect that it was having on him, Robbe was the one to know. 

He could feel Senne’s confusion, and the confusion of the others, pouring towards him in waves, and Sander spoke through gritted teeth, clasping Senne’s hand tighter and still unable to break away from Robbe’s challenging stare-off, “Get me out of this club before I do something that I might regret.”

Senne took a step forward, the smell of his cologne briefly getting stronger. Robbe glanced away, closing his eyes and allowing his head to tilt back further, giving Mr. Nothing-Special more room, and it was like he was ashamed of having been caught outside of Sander. With the spell of the silent challenge broken, Sander felt himself blink, rapidly, turning away from the sight, towards Senne and his friend. 

Senne was digging his wallet out of his pocket, a slightly proud look sprouting across his features, pointed in Robbe’s general direction. He pulled out an appropriate amount of money, sliding it to the bartender as Sander chugged down the rest of his beer. Then, Senne wrapped an arm around Sander and Noor took Sander’s hand, guiding him out of the club, the confused tones of their other friends following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I killed everyone with a portion of that final scene on my Tumblr and in my group chat so I hope everyone survived it ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> We've finally made it to the third chapter of this story! While there were originally only three chapters, I decided that we would need one more chapter before we can reach the end of this story! So, it's not quite done yet! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

The fire dwindled in front of him, the silent sounds of his friends chattering around him, but Sander could only keep his eyes on the embers. The image of Robbe wrapped around Mr. Nothing-Special with his eyes boring directly into Sander’s was painted on the inside of his eyelids, flashing every time he blinked. The image and his initial reaction, jealousy, envy, still present hours later, lingering beneath the surface of his skin. 

Senne nudged him, handing him a smore, fashioned together with the marshmallows and chocolate bars and graham crackers that they picked up on their way back. Sander took it, trying to give a small smile, but the sight of Robbe with his arms wrapped tightly around Mr. Nothing-Special’s waist, whisked the small smile away. Senne seemed to have known, wrapping an arm around him and laying his head against Sander’s shoulder.

“Hey, you guys are still up!” 

Sander glanced up towards the voice, spotting Jens heading towards them. He had one arm bound around Lucas’s shoulder, the charade they had been playing before now completely gone, and Lucas snuggled into the crook of Jens’ neck. Lucas’s jaw moved and Jens chuckled, pulling him closer to his side. Behind him, Moyo and Aaron were flanking Zoë, who rolled her eyes and stepped into the girls’ hotel. Amber pressed a kiss to Aaron’s lips before heading to bed with Luca, Jana bounced over to join them, and Zoë returned to sit down with them, flopping down next to Milan. 

With his head still on Sander’s shoulder, Senne glanced up at him concerned and worried.

Sander had noticed. 

Robbe wasn’t with them. 

Senne’s gaze was searing, but he avoided his friend’s gaze, returning his eyes to look back at the core of the fire, munching on the smore in an attempt to distract himself. From what might be keeping Robbe from returning back to the hotel. From what Mr. Nothing-Special might be doing… After Senne called it a night with the others soon following, Sander pulled out his phone to text his mom, see how she was doing, making sure Camille was keeping up on her summer assignments. He emailed a couple of his clients about his break, about how he would get back to work as soon as it was over, but his mind kept returning to Robbe. 

“Hey man,” someone spoke, interrupting his thoughts. Sander blinked, glancing up to find Jens, lingering at the edge of the campfire. There was a hint of concern on his face, but Sander knew that Jens was likely pissed at him still. Sander didn’t blame him.  _ He  _ was still pissed at his own actions. But, Sander felt dread form in his stomach, spotting Lucas heading to their hotel, and he realized with the start that he was the last one not going to bed.  _ Please _ , Sander silently pleaded,  _ don’t ask me to wait up for Robbe. _ “Do you mind putting out the fire before you go to bed?” 

Sander exhaled, relief flooding his system. “Yeah, I’ll put it out.” 

Jens looked like he was about to say something else, but whatever he was going to say, he didn’t. Instead, he nodded his head and moved back towards Lucas, who was leaning against a pillar. Sander watched the two of them, Jens reaching out to snag his waist and Lucas tilting his head back to kiss his lips. Then, the two of them slipped into the hotel, the door closing behind them. 

Finally alone, both physically and in his thoughts, Sander let out a sigh. He checked the time on his phone and grimaced. 2:00. Sander ran a hand over his face, his body reminding him that he hadn’t slept much the night before, again. He had gone to bed early, but his brain had kept him awake with thoughts of Robbe, and when he finally managed to get to sleep, his dreams of Robbe woke him up before anyone else. He didn’t even want to  _ think _ about what might happen tonight… 

Sander stood on his feet, wiping off the sand sticking to his denim jeans. He stretched to see if he could relieve the stiffness of sitting down without something to lean against. He smothered the fire with some sand and watched the embers fade away, lingering and holding on until it completely faded away. He thought he could vaguely hear the sounds of footsteps moving towards him, but Sander didn’t lift his head, running his hand over his face again.

“Hey.” Sander glanced up, spotting Robbe moving towards him. His brown hair was still messed up, somehow more so than it had been in the club, so was his shirt, and Sander attempted to ignore the flare of jealousy that erupted at the thought of Mr. Nothing-Special with his hands over him. Robbe sent Sander a nervous smile, wiping his palms against his jeans. “I didn’t know you would still be awake.” 

“Hey,” Sander spoke, refusing to look at him. 

If he looked at Robbe any longer, Sander might take notice of the swollen, redness of his lips or the litter of purple bruises against his neck. He had barely been unable to contain himself in a crowded club with their friends around them, barely been able to stop himself from  _ launching  _ at Robbe, but seeing the evidence of Mr. Nothing-Special on his body, a reminder that Sander hadn’t been the one to make them, renewed the jealous force that he had been trying to smother for hours. 

“I didn’t realize that you would be home this early.” 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Robbe still, his voice quiet as he replied, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sander shrugged his shoulders, digging his hands into the fabric of his pockets. “I don’t know. You and that guy just seemed to be having a good time in the club. I just figured you wouldn’t be home until later.” Sander shifted on his feet, adding, “He seemed like a nice guy and you deserve someone that’s going to be good for you.” 

The silent  _ someone who isn’t me  _ goes unspoken from Sander’s lips.

Robbe let out a scoff and Sander found himself looking up to meet his eyes. Robbe’s arms were crossed over his chest, his hands gripping tightly onto his elbows. “So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Robbe questioned, his voice tense and determined and maybe, just maybe, a little bit angry. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did in the club. But, if you’re going to shut me out without an explanation then please, at least give me a warning this time so I won’t get my hopes up that you’ll finally decide to stick around.” 

With that, Robbe turned around, moving back to his suite and heading inside without sparing Sander a second glance. 

* * *

“You two are absolutely ridiculous,” Moyo teased, somewhere on his right. “This is supposed to be the guys hanging out and the two of you are sucking face.” Robbe glanced over, finding Lucas resting against Jen’s chest, half turned to press a kiss against his boyfriend’s mouth which had slowly devolved into more lips and tongue than should’ve been allowed for a guy’s afternoon. Robbe rolled his eyes, leaning back to rest against the towel beneath him. “Honestly, the two of you are worse than Aaron and Amber were.”

“Hey!” 

“What are you talking about, Moyo?” Robbe spoke up. Aaron looked like he was waiting for Robbe to defend him, that he and Amber weren’t constantly sucking each other’s faces, his chest a little puffed out, but Robbe chuckled and replied, “He and Amber are  _ still  _ like that.” Aaron looked absolutely  _ offended _ , shoving his shoulder with all the might that he could, though Robbe didn’t go far because he was reclining back on a towel, and Robbe laughed, loudly, shoving him back, Moyo’s laugh mixed with his own. 

“You guys are rude!” Aaron crowed, shoving his face in his hands. Jens laughed, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to Lucas’ temple. “Especially you,” his voice was directed towards Robbe, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. “None of you think that I’m fuckable! Some friends you are.”

“Aaron!” Robbe laughed, propping himself up on his elbows. “This? Again?”

Jens laughed, throwing his head back, but Lucas remained confused. “Do I even want to know?” 

Moyo was the one to inform the confused Lucas. “Oh, after Robbe came out to us and Aaron was trying to get with Amber, he asked Robbe if he was fuckable and then asked him who out of the four of us he would fuck.” Lucas’s eyes furrowed, amused. “To be fair, he only made the list once he said it was either that or dying so.” 

Lucas let out a laugh. “After I came out, my friends did something similar between the group of us. I chose Kes and then Jayden.” Jens grinned, shaking his head like he wasn’t surprised. Lucas grinned up at him, tilting his head so he could press a kiss to the side of Jens’ jaw. Moyo pretended to grimace. “But, don’t worry, babe. I’d pick you over them every day. Though, I would like to know your list.”

Jens laughed. “Robbe, Moyo, Aaron.” 

“Still?”

When Jens nodded, Lucas grinned over at Aaron. “Don’t worry about it, Aaron. You would beat Robbe on my list!” Robbe placed a hand to his chest. “I’m sorry, Robbe. I could never fuck you. Not even if we were the last two people on the planet. At this point, you’re practically my brother. I’d rather use my hand.”

“Have you tried it with toothpaste?”

“JENS!” 

As the rest of the group laughed at Lucas’s bewildered expression and Jens’ nonchalant one, Robbe glanced around the crowded beach. Jana and Zoë were in the water with Luca, splashing each other and laughing loudly when Jana fell beneath the waves. Amber was sunbathing with Milan, Sophie, and Noor. Without really meaning to, his eyes found Sander, who was playing football with the rest of his friends. His hair was messy from the running and his white shirt showed the sand that still clung to it. Sander made a goal and Senne high-fived him, laughing.

Robbe let out a sigh.

_ Looks like he is having fun. _

“Yo,” Moyo reached across Aaron to pat his arm. The motion was simple, but it managed to pull Robbe from his thoughts. Robbe turned back to his friends, who were all staring at him with concerned looks on their faces. There was a moment of silence as Robbe struggled with what to say before Moyo teased, “Jack Frost steal your tongue or something?”

Even Jens laughed and Robbe flipped them all off. After their laughter died down, Jens spoke up, sounding a bit nervous, like Robbe was about to fall off the deep end of his thoughts, “Well, let’s not talk about him. What about that guy in the club? The one you went home with?” Robbe let out a sigh, running his hands over his face. “Come on,” Jens prodded. “The two of you seemed to be having a good time before you mysteriously  _ disappeared _ . What else are we supposed to think? Was he good?”

“Seriously?” It was Aaron. “Your boyfriend is right there!” 

“Shh, Aaron,” Lucas spoke up. “I want to know too.”

Before Aaron could question Jens and Lucas’s interest in Robbe’s love and sex life, Robbe cut in, “I wouldn’t know.” He could feel his friends’ confusion, their eyes staring into him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, running his hand over his face, knowing that he had to explain. “I didn’t go home with him. I pretended to go to the bathroom and slipped out the backdoor. I basically went on a walk around the dock until I got your text message that you were heading to bed.” 

“What?” all four of his friends questioned, staring at him with wide-gaping expressions like they couldn’t believe a word that he had just said. Lucas was half-sitting up in his boyfriend’s embrace, but he could spot the concerned look on his face, glancing briefly at Jens, who just looked concerned. Finally, it’s Jens that managed to question, “Was it because of Sander? Zoë mentioned that she saw them in the club briefly.”

Robbe let out a sigh, half of a groan. “Yes and no.” 

“Yes and no?” Lucas repeated. 

Aaron was confused, turning between Moyo and Robbe, who was still partially hiding his face. “How can it be yes  _ and  _ no? That seems like a contradiction.” 

Moyo spoke up, “Robbe, we’re going to need more explanation.” 

Robbe let out a sigh, barely muffled by his hands. “I know, I know,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. Robbe crossed his legs beneath him, shuffling so he was facing the rest of the Broerrrs (and Lucas, who had practically become an honorary member). An embarrassed flush crept across his chest and he hid his face, briefly. He had talked several times with his friends about embarrassing sex stories before. How was talking about Sander in the club any different? “The guy and I were kissing and I heard Senne shout at Sander. Once I spotted him, I couldn’t look away and… ugh, this is embarrassing.”

Robbe shoved his face fully into his hands and his friends remained quiet. 

“Robbe,” it was Jens. “Go on.”

Robbe nodded his head, biting down on his lip. “Once I started looking at him, I couldn’t look away. I don’t know. I couldn’t help wishing that  _ he  _ was the one kissing me. I thought about just going back to kissing the guy, but then… Sander saw me kissing him and…” Robbe trailed off. 

Jens raised his eyebrows, his chin resting on Lucas’s shoulder. “And?”

“He was jealous,” Robbe replied, certain and sure of himself. Jens nodded his head, encouraging him to go on, and Robbe did, “He just kept looking at me and his face hardened. I couldn’t look away and I don’t think he could either. But, then, he said something and Senne saw me and they all left the club and…” Robbe trailed off, glancing up at his friends. “After that, the guy didn’t deserve someone who just stared down someone while kissing him so I pretended that I needed to go to the bathroom. He thought I meant another way but I told him that I was too classy to fuck in a bathroom.”

“Haven’t you done that though?” Aaron questioned, his eyes furrowing in confusion. 

Moyo groaned, letting out an “Aaron,” as he shook his head. 

Robbe laughed lightly, continuing, “Anyways, I slipped out the backdoor and went on a long walk through the dock. I was hoping to slip in without any of you noticing that I was home so late. But, when I walked up, Sander was still outside. I should’ve just gone in and not talked to him, but I did and … I don’t know… He just shut me out again.” 

His friends were oddly quiet, unsure of what to say. 

Robbe let out a sigh, running his hands over his face. “It’s the same thing that happened last time. I don’t know why I’m even surprised or upset about it. I should’ve known that it was going to happen because that’s what happened last time.” Moyo reached behind Aaron to pat at Robbe’s shoulder. “I just don’t know what I did wrong this time…” 

“Robbe,” it was Lucas. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Robbe, look at me.” Robbe glanced up at Lucas, who was still wrapped up in Jens’ embrace. Lucas’s look of worry was matched by Jens, who was watching him carefully. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Robbe shrugged his shoulders. 

“He’s right, Robbe,” Jens spoke up. Robbe glanced at his best friend. The entire thing felt like a conversation that they had before, of Sander and the bathroom and everything that happened, so it wasn’t the first time that they were having it. But, it felt different, more charged, more understanding, less anger directed in Sander’s direction. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, all you did was give Sander a clue that your feelings for him are still there. You didn’t do anything wrong, but the ball is in his court now. You have done all that you can do.” 

“And…” he trailed off. Robbe sucked in a breath, running his hands over his face. “What if he…”

Moyo spoke up, “What if he doesn’t do anything?” 

Robbe nodded his head, glancing down. 

“Then, you’ll know for sure,” Aaron spoke up, seriously. Robbe glanced up at his curly-haired friend, who was munching on one of the snacks that he brought with him. “If he loves you as much as he’s acting like it, he’ll reach out to you before we all leave. But, if he doesn’t, you deserve someone who doesn’t hesitate to be with you.” 

Robbe smiled, a light smile. “Thanks, Aaron… but, I don’t think he loves me. At least, not in the way that I love him.”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. “I don’t know about that, Robbe. When you walk away and your back is turned, you don’t get to see the way that he looks at you.” Aaron turned towards the other three with a wide-eyed expression as though he had revealed too much. “Come on, back me up. You know that I’m right! I can’t be the only one who noticed.” 

Instead of answering Aaron’s question, Jens spoke up, patting lightly at Lucas’s thighs, as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I want to go surfing. Who’s with me? Robbe, you’re definitely coming with. I need the motivation to look better than you at surfing.” 

Lucas leaned back, framing Jens’s face with his fingertips and squeezing to make his lips jet out. “You always look better than him, babe.”

“Aww, thanks, babe,” Jens teased, laughing before leaning down to connect their lips together.

Aaron grinned, Robbe averted his eyes, but Moyo groaned, getting on his feet, trying to hide his smile behind his hand as he headed back towards the hotel. “For fuck’s sake, they’re sucking face again! Robbe, Aaron, come on! We gotta be quicker than them!” Robbe laughed, standing on his feet, following after him. 

As he followed Moyo to the hotel, Robbe glanced behind him, his eyes automatically finding the remains of the football game, which had concluded while the boys had been talking. Luka and Val seemed to have been crowned the winners with the girls (and Milan) cheering for them. Even Senne was there, one arm wrapped around Luka’s neck, holding him in a pretend chokehold. 

But, Sander had his hands in his pockets and his eyes directed towards Robbe, wide-eyed and holding in place. Green eyes connected with brown eyes for three heartbeats and they were the longest three heartbeats that he had ever been a part of. Their eyes connected together like in the club, but it was different, it felt different. However, before he could get lost in Sander’s ocean eyes, Robbe turned back around and moved after Moyo.

* * *

It had been a while since Sander had watched Robbe surf. The two of them had gone to the beach together multiple times over the summer with Senne and Jens and the rest of their friends. Robbe was as graceful on a surfboard as he was on a skateboard, commanding the board swiftly across the waves. Robbe had decided that he was going to teach Sander how to skate, but Sander was unable to keep still, squirming under Robbe’s fingers on his waist. The younger boy had been oblivious of every impure thought running through Sander’s head and teasing him for constantly squirming until he gave up. 

Now, Robbe commanded his surfboard with ease and skill, looking better than all of his friends that had joined him in the waves, and Sander couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. It was a problem at this point. Like a real genuine problem. Sander was hoping to sketch a commissioned piece, a rough draft before he actually started painting it, but he would barely make progress before Robbe on a surfboard would catch out of the corner of his eye, negating every ounce of focus that he managed to collect.

Robbe had always been distracting. 

But, after the club, Robbe’s brown eyes staring deep into his own, the entire situation somehow managed to give Robbe the innate ability to be  _ more _ distracting. 

The wave that he was on knocked him off-balance, throwing him off the board and into the water. His surfboard was on the surface of the water, but Robbe was gone, knocked beneath the waves. Sander felt his lungs constrict, his eyes focusing in on the spot where Robbe had vanished, and his lungs continued to get tighter until Robbe popped back up from beneath the water, laughing, shoving his hair back, and climbing up on his surfboard. Sander let out a breath of relief, adverting his eyes before the brown-haired boy could catch him in the act. 

“We need to talk.”

Sander glanced up to find Milan, sitting down next to him. The older man dressed in a pair of shorts and a button-up for the day. His curls were sticking up all over the place and there was a single earring dangling from his right ear. The fun-loving man that he encountered in the flatshare all those years ago was gone, his features replaced with a knowing look and a serious expression on his face. Sander was certain that he had never seen Milan look so serious before. 

Sander swallowed, his face likely portraying his nervousness. “We do?”

“Yes,” Milan replied. “We do. You are in need of a guru right now.” 

“I do?” Sander questioned. “And what do we need to talk about?”

“Yes, you do.”Milan tilted his head to the side and smirked over at Sander, the teasing tone returning to his voice. “About the fact that you’ve been sitting here by yourself for about an hour with the intent of drawing a sketch piece in which the only thing that you’ve managed to do is stare at Robbe without him noticing?” Sander’s eyes flickered back to the ocean, to Robbe, who was sitting on his surfboard, splashing Moyo with seawater, and Milan chuckled beside him. “And, there you go, proving my point.” 

Sander let out a sigh. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sander,” Milan spoke, the serious look returning to his face. “The only person that you’re managing to fool is the one person you  _ shouldn’t _ be trying to fool.  _ Robbe. _ ” Sander avoided, looking at him, staring down at the empty sketch pad in his lap. The current page was blank but the one before was a photo of Robbe that he had drawn. It had been late, he couldn’t sleep, so he snuck out to the beach and drew what was crowded in his mind.  _ Robbe _ . “By making him believe that you don’t love him, the only thing that you’ll succeed in doing is shoving him out of your life for good.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Sander replied. When Milan raised his eyebrows and a questioning look crossed his face, Sander continued, “Come on, Milan. You can’t honestly believe that I’m a good match for him. No matter how much I love him. Not after everything that I’ve done.” 

His own voice sounded defeated and his eyes flickered over to Robbe, still in the ocean water, looking like the sunlight was shining down directly on him. The defeat in his own voice was evident, but Sander couldn’t help it, and he was long past hiding it. Milan saw right through him, so did everyone else, but that didn’t matter because Sander knew the truth. Robbe deserved someone who could give him everything that he ever wanted and more, someone who made him happy, someone who made him full of life and love. 

But, Sander wouldn’t be able to give him that. All Sander would be able to give him was pain and uncertainty and everything that Robbe didn’t deserve. When he left for Paris without telling him that he was leaving, left Robbe alone and confused but unable to tell him that Sander was scared of what the bathroom had meant for them, for their friendship, he proved that fact. He had proved that all Sander would do was hurt Robbe, even unintentionally.

Milan spoke up, pulling him out of his thoughts, “Why don’t you let him decide that for himself, Sander? We can’t decide that for him.”

“I’ll just hurt him again,” Sander replied.

“And?” Milan replied. The older brunet shifted to stare at him directly, partially blocking Sander’s view of the ocean. Sander’s eyes focused on Milan, who was staring directly outside. “Sander, being in a relationship with someone,  _ any  _ relationship, means that there’s going to be ups and downs and pain. But, the ones that mean something to us are the ones that we choose to be around. When Robbe moved into the flatshare and was struggling with his sexuality, we didn’t always see eye-to-eye.  _ Especially  _ about Pride.”

“It’s not the same,” the artist whispered. “Your relationship with him is different than what…” 

“Sander, platonic relationships and romantic ones are equally as important,” Milan replied. “Sure, I don’t sleep with Robbe. But, I do care a lot about his wellbeing and what he wants. And, his relationship with you is just as important as any other of his relationships.” Sander glanced at Milan before his eyes flickered over to Robbe in the water. “Leaving your friendship the way you did had an effect on him, Sander. I don’t think you understand how much.”

Sander let out a sigh. “That’s one of the reasons why I shouldn’t be in his life anymore.”

“If you actually thought that, you wouldn’t still be sitting here at this beach, talking to me,” Milan added, an eyebrow raised as he took a drink. Sander glanced over at him and Milan continued, “And, don’t even try to lie to me. I’ve already talked to Senne. I know he told you that you didn’t have to stay here just for them. Even with Robbe here, you want to be here. Because you want to make it up to him, am I right?”

“I  _ do  _ want to make it up to him,” Sander spoke quietly. But, he shrugged his shoulders. “Does it matter? All I’ve managed to do is fuck it up even more. I can’t give him the answer that he wants and I think we already established that Robbe deserves more than being with me.” 

“It’s not about that,” Milan replied, waving his hands around. “You’re assuming that you already know the answer that Robbe wants to hear and that Robbe deserves more than a relationship with you. But, you’re forgetting an important point in this conversation. A relationship is more than a single person, it’s two people, two bridges, two halves. You are operating like you already know what Robbe is going to say.” Milan paused before adding, “Have you stopped to ask Robbe what he wants?” 

Sander stayed quiet, biting down on his bottom lip. 

The truth, the truth that Milan already knew, was that he  _ hadn’t  _ asked Robbe. 

With his relationships, Sander had a long list of bad luck. Maybe it was because he was out searching for something that couldn’t be filled, maybe it was because there was absolutely no one who could live up to Robbe’s shadow, maybe he was undeserving of love. He had a relationship in France, but it had gone down south quickly. Since his return to Antwerp, he had a handful more but they weren’t what he had been looking for. His longest relationship was with Britt, who came in and out of his life infrequently over the past three and a half years, an on-and-off relationship at best, holding him when he needed it but never loving him the way that he needed it. 

But, they all had something in common. All his relationships were all ruined when they discovered his diagnosis or the fact that he always snuck into the other room to take his meds. His relationships would never last past an episode because he would scare them off and he would be left alone all over again. His diagnosis was like an asterisk on a label, letting the person know that he came with conditions. Some left because they were unable to handle it and others started blaming everything he did on his diagnosis. In short, it ruined every relationship that he ever had. 

With everyone else, he expected it to come eventually, the diagnosis crashing down on his relationship and splitting it up, tearing away the pieces, and chucking them in the wind. 

With Robbe… the mere thought of him leaving because of Sander’s diagnosis was enough to make him want to fling himself off a cliff. Robbe had been the one to stay with him when his first episode hit, camped out in the lobby of a hospital with Camille, and Robbe’s own mother, Marine, had mental health problems for years before she committed herself. It was highly unlikely that Robbe would leave Sander because of his diagnosis. 

But, Sander also knew that his hands and shoulders and blood were stained with darkness and wreckage and that he wasn’t an easy person to be with. Even with Robbe, even as a friend, Sander not been the best friend that he had. He had been the one to kiss Robbe, to take that step, to make that kiss, and all it had done was brought Robbe misery and pain and that wasn’t something that Sander wanted to be the cause of. Especially with Robbe. The truth was that Sander broke everything he touched… and Sander would not break Robbe further than he already had. 

“No,” Sander admitted. “But, I already know what happens no matter the answer.” Milan sent him a confused look, his eyebrows furrowing, and Sander didn’t explain. It was Robbe’s infinite universe theory, that a new universe was made every time you made a decision. If Robbe said no, they wouldn’t be together. If Sander never asked, they wouldn’t be together. But, if Robbe said yes, Sander would break him and Sander couldn’t imagine breaking Robbe, no matter the universe.

Robbe loved the idea of the infinite universes. He loved the idea that one Robbe would go off to do something else, took the path that he didn’t, and had a new life. He loved the idea that one Robbe had two parents who didn’t fight, that one Robbe had an older sister instead of a brother, loved the idea that there was an infinite amount of Robbe’s out there. His theory of infinite universes made Sander lonely, thinking of everything all the other Sanders were doing, but he loved seeing the way Robbe’s eyes lit up when he talked about it. 

After Sander realized his feelings for Robbe, with his long hair spread out over his pillow and a sleepy look on his face, he asked Robbe if every Robbe had a Sander and Robbe had just blinked at him, confused as to where the question was coming from, and smiled, whispering, “Of course, there is.” It had made Sander happy and made his chest glow because no matter the universe, Sander had Robbe. But, now, the infinite universe theory made him sad because there was a daunting realization that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , there was a universe where a Robbe didn’t have his Sander or a Sander didn’t have his Robbe, and maybe, just  _ maybe _ , that might be this one. 

“Sander,” Milan spoke up, pulling Sander out of his thoughts. There was a comforting, knowing look in his eyes and Sander wondered if Milan noticed the fact that his eyes were glossing over. “You love Robbe. No matter your reasons, no matter whatever you think, both of you deserve the closure. Robbe  _ especially _ . You know I’m right, don’t you?”

Sander swallowed. “I don’t know how to make any of this better.” 

“ _ Talk  _ to him, Sander,” Milan urged, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “He’s always been incredibly understanding.  _ Especially  _ when it comes to you.” 

“I don’t want to hurt him anymore,” Sander confessed. “I’ve already hurt him so much… I don’t want to make it any worse.” 

“Talking to one another can help a lot, Sander,” Milan whispered, moving to stand up from where he had been sitting. He paused, half-balancing on one foot, bracing himself with his empty hang. “ _ Especially  _ when it’s the truth. Don’t overthink it. Just tell him. The truth can be as liberating for you as it would be for him.” With his words of wisdom spoken, Milan got up fully, patting Sander’s shoulder, before he whisked back away to the girls and Senne, leaving Sander alone. 

* * *

Tonight, Sander had been the first of them to go to sleep. 

Robbe had been so hyper-aware of everything that Sander did, every strum of the guitar, every shift in his shoulders, every longing look across the fire. The fire cast a warm glow across Sander’s face, making his platinum-blond hair a brilliant shade of orange, accenting every curve of his jaw and his cheekbones and Robbe couldn’t tear his eyes away. But, he wasn’t alone. Sander’s eyes would find Robbe across the fire, brown meeting green, Robbe’s heart would flutter in his chest, that warm glow returning, and they would stare at each other for a couple of seconds before they were pulled away. 

Before he went to bed, Sander glanced over at him, their eyes connecting, and Robbe hoped that Sander would come over, to talk to him, stop trying to shut him out, but the artist went to bed, taking his guitar with them, and leaving Robbe disappointed. Once Sander disappeared into the hotel, Robbe felt like every eye was on him. One by one, everyone headed to bed and Robbe was the last one of either group awake, smothering the fire in the pit. 

Robbe knew that he should head to bed, but he couldn’t. 

His brain buzzed, the surface of his skin vibrated, and his legs were restless. The thought of sleep, the thought of sitting in the dark, listening to his friends snore while his own mind raced, it was agonizing and so Robbe went to the beach, pulling out his phone. With a sigh, Robbe plopped down on the beach, running a hand through his hair, and pulled out his phone. His mind was swirling with thoughts of  _ Sander _ and he needed to distract himself or else he would be unable to fall asleep tonight. 

(Or, if he did, he might wake up to a surprise and teasing remarks from the guys.)

(Honestly, it could go either way.)

Robbe bit down on his lip, opening up his YouTube and grimaced slightly at the number of notifications that he had. There were nearly a week worth of videos that he wanted to get through, from all the gamers and comedians that he followed. Some of them were Fortnite, some were Call of Duty videos from hour-long streams, and some were of YouTubers that Jens insisted that he start watching for vlog ideas that he ended up never unsubscribing from. And, a handful were art videos, YouTubers that Sander used to watch while Robbe played games, YouTubers that intrigued Robbe to start watching. He still didn’t know shit about art, but they were pretty drawings and sketches and paintings.

But, the mere thought of watching one made his heart clench so he scrolled to a Call of Duty video and clicked on it. However, as it loaded up an ad, a fifteen-second ad that he couldn’t skip, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, soft against the sand. Curious, he glanced behind him, his heart briefly stopping at the sight of white-blond hair glowing blue in the moonlight. 

_ Sander _ . 

“Sander?” Robbe questioned. 

“Yeah,” Sander’s voice spoke. He moved closer to Robbe, his features coming into focus once he got closer to him, and Robbe stood on his feet, his brown eyes meeting Sander’s cautious stare. There was a loud ‘Yooooo’, the video had finally loaded, and Robbe hurried to lock his phone, cutting out the long intro before it had a chance to fully begin. Sander was watching him closely. “I was wondering if we could talk…” Sander trailed off, his eyes searching Robbe’s face.

“Okay…” Robbe swallowed, his hands getting clammy and his skin buzzing. “What did you want to talk about?” Sander was quiet for a second, swallowing obviously. He ran a hand through his hair, the platinum blond strands standing up in all different directions, but somehow, it made him look more regal, more defined. Standing opposite of him, Robbe almost wanted to hate how Sander could look so nervous and so beautiful simultaneously. When Sander didn’t respond, Robbe added, “Where is this coming from? You didn’t seem to talk at the campfire or in general…” 

“I know,” Sander spoke. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes pinched shut. Robbe was unsure that he had ever seen Sander as nervous as he was now. “I know. I … I didn’t mean to hurt you anymore, but that’s all I end up doing anyway. That’s all I  _ can _ do.” 

“Sander,” Robbe spoke. He knew the way that Sander’s mind always worked, always spiraled out of control before he could even attempt to stop it, and the need to stop his thoughts already in Robbe’s brain, his mind connecting the words that he n-

“I’m in love with you.” 

Whatever had been swirling in Robbe’s thoughts halted to a stop, tires skidding against the nonexistent cement. His eyes scanned across Sander’s face, looking for any sign of  _ anything  _ in his face, but the artist was staring at Robbe, green eyes connecting with brown. There was a look in Sander’s eyes that he recognized from the bathroom, sure and certain and determined and confident, but there was also the inherent vulnerability present in his eyes. 

Robbe opened his mouth, but his throat clamped up, unable to speak.

Even though he had already said those words before, said those words to  _ Sander  _ before, they caught in his throat and stayed there. 

As if knowing, or unable to stop, Robbe couldn’t tell, Sander continued, “I’ve been in love with you since that summer. Before the bathroom, before I kissed you, before everything got all fucked up between us, you came over one day and you were just  _ laying  _ there on my bed and I just got hit with the realization that I loved you as more than a friend. My feelings for you terrified me, but they also brought me peace and somehow, that only managed to terrify me more.” 

Sander paused to take a breath. Words like  _ I love you too _ , questions like  _ why didn’t you believe me when I told you that I loved you outside of the flatshare _ , caught in Robbe’s throat and he was unable to swallow them down before Sander continued again. 

“You were one of my best friends and I was hopelessly in love with you-”  _ Not hopelessly  _ caught in his throat too. “-and I was leaving and there was nothing that I could possibly do to change either of things. But, I wanted you and that scared me. Maybe, there was a part of me that was hoping that the distance would make my feelings for you would go away, so we would be able to get back to normal. But, then, I kissed you in that bathroom and I knew I couldn’t go back and I have never regretted what happened between us for a second.” 

“I don’t either,” managed to come out, but Robbe didn’t know if Sander heard him.

“But, I couldn’t tell you that I was leaving because…” Sander trailed off, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to think it was a stupid, drunken fling, one-night stand that we would never talk about ever again. Because it never was.” Robbe let out a breath and Sander was picking up. “But, all I ended up doing was hurt you and once I left, I couldn’t do anything to make it better so I didn’t say anything and that made it worse and worse. So I didn’t…” he trailed off. 

Robbe swallowed. “Why…” Robbe could fear the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “Why didn’t you talk to me about why you left?”

Sander shook his head, like it was obvious, but it wasn’t to Robbe, “Because you’ve always been better off without me, Robbe.” Robbe shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, to protest, but Sander cut him off before he could. “It’s true, Robbe. You’re living proof of it. After I kissed you, after I crossed that boundary in our friendship, it left our friendship broken and you bruised.” 

“No,” Robbe whispered. “It didn’t.” 

“Robbe,” the artist started. 

“No,” Robbe cut him off. “You’re doing it again. You’re not believing me.” There was a look of confusion that crossed Sander’s face. Before he could figure out what to say, Robbe continued, unable to stop now that he found his voice, found the words. “That day outside of the flatshare, when you were helping Senne move out, I told you that I loved you and you didn’t believe me. But, I’m in love with you too, Sander.” The artist stared up at him with wide eyes, vulnerable eyes, almost like he didn’t believe him. “After you left, I thought that I had gotten over my feelings for you, but I hadn’t. I tried to run away from them and I tried to shut them down, but I couldn’t. My feelings for you never went away.” 

“Robbe,” Sander spoke up. “You don’t have to say this just for my benefit.”

Robbe paused, breathing out. “I’m not.” 

“Robbe-”

“Sander,” Robbe spoke, his voice quiet. But, somehow, Robbe simultaneously felt like he was screaming and not being loud enough. “I’m in love with you too. I’ve been in love with you and that hasn’t changed and it won’t.” Another vulnerable look crossed Sander’s green eyes, one like he wouldn’t believe a word that Robbe said, like he  _ couldn’t  _ believe it. “Sander, why don’t you believe me?” 

Sander let out a sigh. 

Robbe could see the gears turned in Sander’s head, could see them grinding behind his green irises, could see the proverbial smoke pouring out of his ears. His mind was spinning, falling out of control, trying to figure out which he should trust: his brain or Robbe. The brunet forced the sigh down his throat. 

Even after all these years, Sander still second-guessed words pointed in his direction. Robbe knew that it wasn’t his fault. Mr. Driesen had spent Sander’s entire childhood sending loaded, double-handed comments in his direction. Those childhood comments still had a profound impact on Sander’s psyche and how he viewed words directed to him. Intentional or not, they had been harmful to Sander, the proof of that right in front of him, and Robbe knew that no matter the words that he said, the artist would never believe him. 

Not that Robbe could blame him.

“Robbe,” Sander whispered, breathing out. The brunet was pulled from his thoughts, realizing with a start that he had taken a step towards Sander. Sander didn’t take a step back from him, but his green eyes were moving all over the place, searching Robbe’s face. The latter found himself doing the same thing as Sander’s mouth dropped open, fumbling out an “I…”, but his voice dried out. 

The brunet swallowed, his hands getting clammy. Robbe’s brown eyes focused on Sander’s lips, where were still partially open, and Sander swallowed, closing them together, his teeth jetting out to snag the flesh of his lip. He avoided Robbe’s gaze, his eyes wandering back to the ocean, and Robbe reached out, resting his hand against Sander’s chest, fisting the fabric of his jacket, trailing his thumb along the zipper. Beneath the side of his hand, he could feel Sander’s heart, beating his chest. 

“Sander,” Robbe whispered. “Look at me.”

Sander didn’t turn to look at him, keeping his eyes peeled on the ocean. 

“Look at me,” Robbe pleaded. Before his eyes had looked up to meet him fully, his eyes dragged to Robbe’s hand on his chest, holding there for several moments. His hand reached up, covering Robbe’s hand with his own, the palm against Sander’s hand against the back of his own, squeezing gently. Then, his eyes flickered up to Robbe’s eyes, ocean green connecting with dark brown again, and Robbe breathed out, softly whispering, “I love you.” It wasn’t a confession. It was a promise. 

With one final, purposeful look at his lips and swallowing nervously, Robbe gripped tighter on the grey hoodie that Sander wore. Robbe took another step closer, closing the distance, and Sander’s eyes watched his sure movements, his eyelids fluttering close. Robbe stared at him, reaching up to brace the back of his head with his other hand, and tilted his head up so their lips could meet in a soft, gentle kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may or may not be delayed because of my project and test next Thursday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve arrived at the final chapter of this lovely Childhood Friends AU and I’m so glad that you guys have enjoyed all of this lovely journey! This story marks my third complete story which is a milestone tbh because, before this fandom, I had a grand total of 0 complete multi-chaptered stories. But, alas, this story must come to an end and I just want to thank you all for the incredible reception on this story. I hope this final chapter lives up to your expectations!

Robbe had fallen asleep. 

The room of the hotel was cold, chilly like the other Broerrrs liked it, and Robbe let out a groan, burying his face in the warmth, gentle fabric of the pillow, pulling his jacket around him. Pinching his eyes closed, he tried to call back the faint memory, of kissing Sander on the beach, of his confession, of everything that he had wanted to hear. He didn’t care if it wasn’t real, as long as he went back to sleep. He would care about it in the morning. But, not now. Now, he just wanted to sleep. 

Robbe pressed his head further into the warmth beneath him and he heard a chuckle, a ghost of someone’s breath exhaled against his cheek, before he felt a wet kiss being pressed against the lobe of his ear, sending shivers up his spine, as Sander whispered, “Did you finally wake up, sleeping beauty?”

Robbe’s eyes snapped open, taking in the sights in front of him. His eyes immediately met Sander’s dark green ones that were staring at him with so much open affection that he felt the urge to pinch himself. The blond artist was lying flat on his back in the sand, his hoodie pulled up over his head, one hand tucked beneath. His other arm was wrapped securely around Robbe, his hand burning a hole in the middle of Robbe’s back. 

Robbe blinked at him, “I didn’t imagine that, did I?”

“No,” Sander replied, a confused look crossing his face. “Did you want to?”

“No,” Robbe mumbled. He pushed himself up from the sand, throwing one leg around Sander’s breathless comment of “What’s your plan?” before leaning back down, purposely burying his face in the crook of Sander’s neck and wrapping his arms tight around Sander’s torso, holding him close. “I just wanted to make sure,” Robbe replied, feeling Sander’s mouth tug up against his temple. “What time is it?” 

He felt Sander shift, trying to get to his phone, before his hand slid to the pocket of Robbe’s shorts, pulling out his phone with one smooth move. “Uh, it’s almost two and you got a few texts from someone named Garrett.”

“Ugh, ignore it,” Robbe groaned, burying his head further into Sander’s neck. 

“You sure?” Sander questioned. There was something in his voice that Robbe couldn’t pinpoint. His hand on his back moved towards the phone as well and Robbe didn’t care that he let out a whine that was barely muffled by his neck. “He seems to be quite insistent on getting in touch with you. There are several pictures here.” 

Robbe sighed, reaching back to blindly grab for his phone. Sander handed it over and Robbe pulled it between them to see the extent of Garrett’s neediness. Sander’s hand dropped to his back, tracing a pattern with his finger. Sure enough, he had sent Robbe over ten messages in the past hour, _insisting_ that he come over to help him handle his ‘problem’. Robbe rolled his eyes. He never changed.

Robbe sighed, typing out, _I’m on vacation which you’ve seem to have forgotten so even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I can’t help you. Use your hand or get creative._

He could see that Garrett was typing out another message, probably trying to convince him that Robbe needed to get here _right away_ or call him at the _very_ least, but Robbe turned off his phone, unable to deal with it right now, shoving the device back into his pocket. “He’s so infuriating.”

“Hmm?” Sander questioned. 

“Yeah,” Robbe mumbled, pressing his face back into the folds of his neck. 

“I don’t know, he seems to want your attention, this _boyfriend_ of yours,” Sander remarked. Confused, Robbe pulled back, propping himself up on one arm to stare down at the blond, who was staring off towards the stars over Robbe’s right shoulder. Sure enough, Sander seemed serious. “Of course, I don’t mind being your mistress, if that’s what you really want.” 

Robbe felt a small smile tug up the corners of his lips. “What are you talking about?”

“Me being the mistress.”

“Mistress to whom?” Robbe questioned.

Sander glanced over to Robbe, his eyes lighting up, and a chuckle escaping his mouth as he questioned, “Did you really just use ‘whom’?”

“Sander,”

“ _Whom_.”

“Sander!”

Sander stared up to him, with a small smile on his face as he whispered out, “Say it again.”

Robbe shook his head, leaning down over him. “Why are you a mistress?”

Sander rolled his eyes, his eyes flickering over Robbe’s entire face. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you have someone coming after you. Look at you. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen!” The unexpected compliment had caused a flush to creep across Robbe’s chest, and across his cheeks, and a triumphant smile lit up Sander’s features, his hand moving up to frame the side of Robbe’s jaw, his thumb hovering over the edge of his lips. “See, look at you.”

“You aren’t the mistress,” Robbe whispered, leaning back over Sander, brushing the tips of their noses against together. Sander grinned up at him, his eyes closing, tilting his head so their foreheads pressed together, and Robbe’s eyelids fluttered closed. “Garrett is just one of those people that just want a mouth or a hand or anything that will help them get off. I would much rather be here.” 

Robbe leaned down to press their lips together, but Sander unexpectedly moved, pulling the smaller man against his chest and pressing a trail of kisses down the curve of his jaw. Robbe let out a sigh, feeling Sander’s lips work their way down his jaw, back to his ear where his lips closed around the small hoop earring that Jens had bought him years ago. Sander’s hand was on the back of his head, his lips moving hungrily to his neck, moving down the vein there, and Robbe gripped the thin fabric of Sander’s lightweight zip-up jacket a little tighter, burying his face into his shoulder. 

Sander’s breath was hot on his neck as he spoke, “Who was your first?”

Robbe blinked. “Huh?” 

“ _Sex,_ Robbe.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Robbe remarked, pressing his face into the crook of Sander’s neck. It prevented him from seeing his face. However, it did little to stop the onslaught of kisses and light bruises left in the wake of Sander’s lips on Robbe’s neck. “I’m just confused about why you’re bringing it up now.” 

“It’s only fair,” Sander replied, leaning back, stopping his attack. Robbe let out a breath of relief. He didn’t feel like dealing with the teasing from _both_ Milan and the Broerrrs should they manage to wake up before him. “You do know when my first time was and I have a feeling that the two of us have a _lot_ to catch up on.” Robbe sighed, pressing a featherlight kiss against Sander’s neck, grinning at the slight hitch in his voice as he spoke, “Only if you want to that is.” 

“What are we classifying as the first time?” Robbe questioned, pushing himself up so he was sitting up straight. Sander was laid out beneath him, a small smile pushing up on the corners of his face. Robbe rested the palm of his hands against Sander’s chest and grinned down at him. “Because, if we’re talking about doing _anything_ sexual, I think you already know the answer to this question.” 

A teasing smile formed on Sander’s face. “Whichever you prefer.” 

“Well, my first time doing anything sexual with someone was with you and I’m sure that I don’t need to give you a vivid description of what happened,” Robbe remarked before squinting his eyes down at Sander, who was resting beneath him, a burning hand resting against his hip. “Unless you don’t remember and _that’s_ why you want to talk about it.” 

Sander rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I remember,” Sander whispered, staring up at him like _that_ again. “Kissing you was all I had been thinking about for weeks before that party and then I got drunk and went for it. And, then I got inside my own head and you know the rest of it.” Sander reached up, his hand running through Robbe’s hair. “Which, now that you think about it, I’ve forgotten what that feels like.”

“What?” Robbe questioned, smirking. 

Sander grinned, tugging Robbe back down against his chest, and bringing their lips together again. 

Sander’s kiss was warm and inviting. One of his hands on the back of Robbe’s neck, his fingers in his hair, and the other was on Robbe’s hip, his thumb darting beneath the fabric of his shirt to draw a blaze of heat down his skin. His lips moved expertly, pushing against Robbe’s in a smooth, fluid motion, like they had been doing it for years and not hours. Robbe sunk into his kiss, their chests flushed together again. Sander’s lips pushed up Robbe’s mouth, his tongue slipping inside, and Robbe shifted so he could dig his hands through Sander’s hair, pulled him closer by the fabric of his jacket. 

Before Robbe had fallen asleep on Sander, the two of them had been talking about anything and everything that they could think of on the beach, Sander’s photography, Camille’s schooling, Robbe’s schooling. Before the two of them had landed in the sand, their legs screaming with relief from standing for so long, they had to have kissed for about an hour, maybe more, maybe less. It was hard for Robbe to tell time with Sander’s lips pressed against his. The movement of his kisses shifted constantly from gentle and soft, cradling his chin and the back of his head, to heated and frenzied, holding him by the waist so tightly that Robbe felt like he couldn’t breathe sometimes, tugging on his hair, leaving Robbe to only be able to cling and try to follow and press his lips at the same intensity, and back again. 

But by now, Robbe had gotten used to the intensity that Sander kissed, the way their lips moved together flawlessly and purposely, charted by the intensity of whatever Sander was feeling, the way it always seemed like he was starving for more. Robbe wrapped his arm around Sander’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and rested his other hand against his chest. Sander’s other hand moved to Robbe’s hips, steadying him, and a second later, Sander pulled back, letting out a small breath of disappointment and forced out, “We need to head back inside soon.”

“Why?” Robbe managed. 

“Because it’s almost two in the morning,” Sander remarked, a slight grin on his face. He tilted up an eyebrow and replied with a low voice, “And, because, there’s something that I need to take care of.”

Robbe chuckled, surging to press their lips back together again. Sander responded to Robbe’s kiss eagerly and greedily, opening up his mouth again, drawing their lips closer together. Robbe tried to force down his hips but Sander’s hands on his hips prevented him from doing so. Robbe shifted, sliding his hand down Sander’s chest, but, despite the fact that his breath hitched, Sander’s hand grabbed onto his wrist, stopping it from going lower. 

Robbe pulled back, staring down at him with a small teasing smile forming on his face. “You know I can help with that, right? I’m no longer the inexperienced boy that you had to help in the bathroom.”

Sander snorted, rolling his eyes. “You were perfect then,” Sander whispered, leaning up to peck his lips. 

“So, let me help you. I never fully returned the favor,” he teased, grinning at the way that Sander’s breath hitched a little as he breathed in. After about a minute, Sander shook his head and Robbe frowned. “Do you not want me to?” 

“Not now,” Sander admitted. 

Robbe nodded his head, pressing another peck against his lips before moving to trail kisses down his jawline, sucking and biting down on the skin. Sander leaned his head back, to give him more access, or maybe it was because it was a natural reaction, and Robbe leaned forward, pressing kisses until the back of his jaw, making a mark beneath his ear before leaning back. “Why?” Robbe questioned. 

Sander snorted. “Because,” Sander whispered, his eyes pinched closed and a smile on his face. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here and you’re making it so difficult.” Robbe chuckled, resting his head against Sander’s shoulder. “And, besides,” Sander remarked, opening his eyes to stare over at him. “Before we go that far, I want to do things the right way, take you out on a proper date or two. Whatever and wherever you want once we get back to Antwerp.” A quick look of vulnerability passed over Sander’s features as he reached up to run his thumb across Robbe’s cheekbone. “Is that okay?”

Robbe smiled, nodding his head, before leaning over to press their lips together again. At the thought of the two of them on a date in Antwerp, the glow returned in his chest, blinding and bright and intoxicating. Sander kissed him back, a little greedy, a little smiling, pushing Robbe’s lips open if only to slip his tongue in his mouth briefly. Robbe tightened his grip on his jacket before pulling back. Sander smiled at him before letting him go, allowing Robbe to stand up. The brunet pulled Sander to his feet, helping him brush off the sand that had been clinging to his clothes. 

Once the sand was mostly gone, the blonde wrapped an arm around Robbe’s shoulders, pulling him back into their half-embrace. Robbe buried his face back in Sander’s neck, relishing in the melodious laugh that hit his ears as he did so. Sander trailed him back to the hotel, back to where their friends were, and Robbe clung to him tighter, letting himself be guided away from the beach. Robbe tilted his head up, asking for another kiss, and Sander grinned, mercifully giving him one, pressing their lips together as Sander guided him back, with his hands on his hips. 

* * *

The melody of _‘Life on Mars?’_ , even half-asleep, he recognized it immediately, pulled him from his dream of Robbe and him, on a date, on a picnic or at a restaurant. He couldn’t remember, in all honesty, the dream slipping through his fingers like wisps of smoke that he desperately tried to cling to. Around him, he could hear the muffled groans of Luka as he turned over, pulling a pillow over his head, and Sophie sat up from within Val’s arms (her bed in the next room abandoned) to blink in his direction before lying back down. 

“Why would someone be calling you so early?” was Senne’s muffled question.

“I don’t know,” Sander muttered, searching for his phone. His fingers found the white cord and followed it to the floor where his phone had fallen off the edge of the bed some point in the night. As he pulled his phone up, his eyes found the red numbers on the clock on the other end of the room. _6:03_. It wasn’t too early, or it wouldn’t be if Sander hadn’t managed to fall asleep until 3, but his confusion and anxiety picked up. 

Who would be calling him so early?

Pulling his phone over his head, his phone screen was filled with a photo of Camille, Sander, and Senne. It was the photo that the three of them had taken last Christmas. Camille was standing on her toes between Sander and Senne, trying to seem like the same height as their mom had taken the picture. Senne had been an honorary Driesen for years now, the tradition continuing long after high school, and Katrijn Driesen had wanted a picture of “all her kids” together. It was his picture for both Camille and Senne and since one of them was on the bunk above him… 

His anxiety jumped further in his throat, his thumb sliding to answer the call, breathing out, “Camille? What’s wrong?” Sander’s voice was hoarse, the fact that he had just been woken up obvious, but he didn’t care. He needed to know what was going on. When the two of them had headed to vacation, his mother and Camille had promised them not to call unless it was a dire emergency. The fact that it was six only proved to worry him further. 

At the mention of Camille, the bed above him was creaking until Senne popped down over the edge. He still looked half-asleep, his hair a wild mess, but there was concern in his eyes. His eyes darted around, searching Sander’s face, but Senne was close enough to hear the loud sob that emitted from Camille, through the speaker of the phone, _“Sander, Mom’s been in an accident.”_

Without warning, Senne was climbing down from the bunk, practically leaping off and gathering their things up, and Sander was climbing out of bed, pulling on the jeans that he tossed off the previous night. “What do the doctors say?”

 _“I don’t know, I don’t know,”_ Camille spoke. _“I just got here not that long ago and they’re not entirely for sure if there’s some permanent damage because she passed out on the way here on the ambulance. And they’re running tests and the crash broke her arm and…”_ Sander pulled on his shirt, buttoning up his jeans with one hand. Luka sat up, questioning what was wrong, and Senne moved towards him to explain. Val, the heavy-sleeper, was still out but Sophie woke up, nodding her head to whatever Senne was saying. _“Sander, I don’t know what to do.”_

“It’s okay,” Sander spoke. “Just breathe and relax. Senne and I will be there soon.”

_“Sander.”_

“Don’t argue, Camille, and text me the address. Senne and I will be there in about an hour.”

“Forty-five minutes,” Senne corrected.

“Forty-five minutes.”

 _“Okay,”_ Camille started, a slight waver in her voice, defeat in her voice like she knew better not to argue with Sander (and, by extension, Senne). _“Drive safely.”_ Sander moved to lock his phone, the call closing, and he spotted the notification on his screen.

_Robbe: I’m about to fall asleep now and I think you have already. I hope you managed to take care of yourself since you decided to not let me help you. Goodnight. I love you._

“Robbe.” 

Senne turned to him, away from the sleepy Luka who was half leaning on the slats of his bunk bed and attentive Sophie, who was propped up by her elbows. “Huh?”

Sander glanced up at him, his green eyes connect with Senne’s confused brown ones, as he whispered out, “I have to tell Robbe that we’re leaving.” 

There was a look of confusion, but it quickly morphed into understanding, a silent thought exchanged between them that came from years of friendship, that screamed _You’re telling me in the car_ , before Senne nodded and said, “Go, I’ll get our things packed up and catch up Noor.” Sander nodded his head, shoving his phone into his pocket before heading out of their hotel door in search of Robbe. 

* * *

The feeling of a pillow hitting his head jostled him out of sleep, nearly sending him into the ceiling. Moyo groaned out a “finally”, from the bunk below him, as Jens, who was lying in the top bunk of another bed with Lucas tucked in his neck, informed him, “Your phone’s been going off for about three minutes now. Shut it up so the rest of us can go back to sleep.” Robbe groaned, hearing another from his phone somewhere on his bed, tossing the pillow back to Jens. 

Robbe let out a groan, hearing his phone go off again, and tossed the pillow back to Jens, who tucked it back under his head, lying back down. The brunet found his pillow in the spot that he left it the previous night connected to the charger. Shutting off the sound, Robbe was half tempted to fall back asleep, chase his dreams and an hour of sleep for another hour or two, but his mama always had a habit of calling him early, to see what his plans for the day would be.

But, as Robbe tilted up the phone, he found that there was only one message from his mama. The rest of them were from Sander.

_Sander: Robbe. Are you awake?_

_Sander: Robbe, please, I need to talk to you._

_Sander: Robbe, baby, please._

Robbe sat up, typing out a message to Sander, _I’m awake now. What’s going on?_. The brunet climbed out of his bed, putting his phone between his lips. Once he was on the floor, he pulled on his jeans that he had discarded the previous night and his t-shirt. Jens poked his head back up, a look of concern on his face, and whine somewhere from Lucas, “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Robbe replied, pulling his phone from his mouth. As if sensing it, his phone buzzed, a new message from Sander, _Sander: Come outside_ , “I’ll tell you later. Go back to sleep.” Jens nodded his head, falling back into the bed with Lucas, who let out a noise of contentment. Robbe chuckled, stepping into a pair of his shoes and exiting out of the room. 

Even standing in the living room, through the glass pane, he could see Sander standing outside the front door. Robbe could tell that he was nervous and antsy, shifting from one foot to the other and playing with the hem of his jacket, and somehow, that made his anxiousness leap to his throat. Biting down on his lip, Robbe moved to the door, unlocking it and stepping outside. 

“Hey,” Robbe spoke, closing the door lightly behind him. 

“Hey,” Sander breathed out, a look of relief lighting up his features. However, his look of relief was quickly washed away, replaced with something else, one that Robbe could still manage to identify after all these years of separation. It made Robbe feel immediately on edge, his body tense up, and his shoulders stiffen. He could see the look on Sander’s face, the conflicted expression crossing his face, and somehow, that only made Robbe’s stomach squeeze and contort.

Over his shoulder, Robbe spotted Senne leaving their hotel, a green bag strapped across this chest and two duffle bags over his shoulder. On his heels was Noor, who was wearing a long t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She looked tired, like she just woke up, and she was following after Senne with two cups of to-go coffee, which she put in the car. 

“What’s going on?” Robbe questioned, turning his gaze to look up at Sander. 

Sander swallowed, letting out a breath and running a hand across the back of his neck, whispering, “Senne and I are heading back to Antwerp.” 

Robbe swallowed, staring up at him. A knot formed in his throat and Robbe tried to swallow it down. Despite being in the open air, he couldn’t help feeling like the walls were closing in around him, like the world was suffocating, tightening around him. _He’s leaving_ flew through his head and it was almost immediately followed up with a sorrowful _Already?_. Like he should’ve known that it was going to happen eventually. Like he should’ve expected it to happen. Robbe could see the pain on Sander’s face and hear the pain in his own voice as he managed to force out, “Why?”

Robbe was unprepared for the sorrow dripping in his own voice. And, so Sander, who looked more emotional than he had moments before. Robbe’s hands clamped up, tightening like a vice grip around his palms which began to sweat without a real reason to. But, he was especially unprepared for the tears that began to sting at his eyes. 

The pained look on Sander’s face intensified and he crossed the small space that was between them, wrapping his arms tightly around Robbe’s shoulders, so tight that Robbe struggled to breathe. Robbe didn’t mind being wrapped in his embrace, clinging tightly to the fabric of his jacket and burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in Sander’s scent, and he felt Sander cling to him a little tighter. 

Being with Sander again had meant that the music had started up again. From _Rebel, Rebel_ to _Heroes_ to all the other David Bowie songs that were still on Robbe’s Spotify account, they had all started back up again. The harmony blared in harmony in his head, overlapping together in an endless seam of David Bowie, something that was so chaotically Sander that it made sense. Even in the short hours of last night with their kisses and their touches and the teasing and the banter, Robbe had quickly gotten used to the never-ending melody in his head. But, now, he could feel the song begin to end again, and he didn’t want the melody to end, didn’t want to be plunged into the awkward silence again, afraid that it might draw on forever and never pick back up again.

Robbe clung a little tighter to Sander’s t-shirt and buried his face a little further, wondering if they could somehow become one person so they wouldn’t have to separate again, so the silence would never begin and the music would never end. Sander ran his hand down the back of Robbe’s head, his fingers tangling in the strands of his hair, before he leaned back, tilting Robbe’s head up to look at him, green eyes connecting with brown. Sander’s thumb brushed his cheek, wiped away the stray tear that had slipped past the brunet’s defenses. 

“Mom got in an accident,” Sander informed him. Robbe let out a breath, still feeling the threat of tears spilling over his eyes. “Camille called about ten minutes ago. She’s freaking out and Mom’s in the hospital with a broken arm. The doctors won’t know anything until she wakes up and I-” Sander cut himself off, his breath hitching, but Robbe didn’t need him to finish. Sander had always been close to his mother and his sister. If Robbe had gotten the call about his mom being in the hospital, he was certain that he would’ve already been on the train to Antwerp. “I…”

Robbe tugged on his jacket, pulling him close so he could press their foreheads together. “It’s okay,” Robbe whispered, still hearing the sadness in his own voice, could register the fact that he still didn’t want Sander to leave. “I understand.”

Sander let out a breath, his thumb running over Robbe’s cheeks. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you where I was going.” Robbe closed his eyes, leaning into Sander’s touch further. If possible, he managed to pull Robbe closer, so their chests were flushed together, one arm wound around his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to think that I was going to leave without coming back to you.” 

“I wasn’t thinking that…”

“You’re a terrible liar, Robbe,” he whispered, a snort emitting from his mouth. Robbe chuckled, leaning against him. “At least when you lie to me,” Sander muttered. “But, you know you don’t have to lie to me, right?” Robbe opened his eyes to stare at the blond, finding his green eyes open and staring at him. The brunet nodded his head, their noses rubbing together as he did so. “I’m sorry.”

Robbe blinked at him. “For what?”

“For leaving you again…” Sander trailed off. He shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning towards Robbe who held onto his jacket tightly. “I didn’t want to, at least so soon, but…” Sander let out a sigh. “I’m not leaving for good though. I want you to know that.” 

“I know,” Robbe whispered. The statement was not only directed to Sander, but also to himself. He could feel the creep of anxiety pick up, like Sander was going to drive away and never look back, but Robbe knew it was the fear in him, the fear of the past repeating itself. Robbe reached up, wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck to draw him in close, and Sander came willingly, his hands dropping to Robbe’s waist.

“I’m coming back,” the artist, his artist, whispered. “I’m coming back to you, Robbe.” He spoke it with so much confidence that Robbe had no choice but to believe him, hoping and wishing desperately that it was true, that Sander would come back, that he would be there when Robbe arrived in Antwerp, waiting on the platform for him. _Please be there_ , Robbe thought, his last desperate thought to the universe. _Please let this be a universe where they ended up finding their way back to each other._

Letting out a breath that he didn’t fully realize he was holding, Robbe tilted his head up and his lips met Sander’s kiss, open-mouthed and desperate. Robbe couldn’t help his natural reaction to cling to him, his hair, his jacket, anything that he could possibly get his hands on, to grab, hold, and memorize should he slip away from his fingers. Sander pulled him closer, bringing their bodies flushed together, like he could tell what Robbe was thinking, the racing thoughts through his mind. 

“Sander!” It was Senne. Sander pulled away from Robbe, cursing under his breath, and turned. Robbe spotted Senne over his shoulder, standing in the driver’s side of the car, with Noor beside him. Despite interrupting the two of them, there was a sympathetic look on his face (and Noor’s too). “If we’re going to miss the early morning traffic, we’ve got to leave now.”

Sander nodded his head, turning back to Robbe. His green eyes were assessing Robbe’s face, as if trying to memorize every detail, his fingers pushing back the longer strands of Robbe’s hair. Then, he was tilting his head forward to kiss him again. This kiss was sweeter, gentler, and Robbe savored all that Sander was giving to him, clinging to his shirt and his jacket. Sander pulled away, hesitantly, and paused before he returned for one, two, three, four, five kisses against Robbe’s lips, earning a laugh from the brunet which Sander swallowed with another kiss. 

“I love you,” his artist whispered, stepping back towards Senne’s car. His hand was on Robbe’s shoulder, dropping down his arm, gripping tightly on his wrist, before their hands were clinging to one another, not wanting to let go. 

Robbe’s heart quickened, sure that he would never get used to hearing it, never get used to the feeling of Sander wanting _him_ so openly and surely. “I love you too,” Robbe whispered. Sander smiled, the smile blooming over his face, and Robbe smiled too. Robbe held onto him until their fingertips curled around each other and Sander held onto him too. But, then, they stepped too far away and Sander nearly fell over. The blond smiled at him, looking at him over his shoulder, before he was moving towards Senne’s car. “Text me?”

Sander glanced back, nodding his head, “I promise.”

Robbe smiled. 

Noor met Sander, wrapping her arms around in him in goodbye, before Sander was off to Senne’s car. They both climbed inside and the car sped away. As soon as the car was out of sight, Robbe’s phone buzzed and he looked down, finding a message from Sander on his phone, smiling down at the message. 

_Sander: I miss you already_ ❤

Unexpectedly, Noor walked up to him, taking his chin in her hands and tilting his head up. She _tsk_ -ed and shook her head, “Honestly, that boy has no control, does he?” Robbe opened his mouth, unsure what to say in response, and Noor tilted her head to their house. “Come on, I think we’re the same shade. I can help you cover those up and coffee!”

“Only if you promise to tell me why you and Senne are pretending to be fake dating.”

“Both of us weren’t interested in being hit on by strangers.”

“But-”

“Well, we didn’t expect the people that we were hung up on to show up!” 

“Wait, who are you hung up on?” Noor gave him a look, one that meant that she wouldn’t tell him. He shook his head. “Then, why did you keep it up?”

“Because of the dude three compounds down, we met on our first day. He keeps staring at me and trying to get me alone, convince me to leave my boyfriend. Senne’s been the only thing keeping him at bay. Now, what am I going to do?!” 

And, that was how Moyo found them about ten minutes later, Noor sitting on the counter of their hotel with liquid makeup on her hand with Robbe’s jaw pinned in her other hand and Robbe trying to come up with ideas to fend off her suitor three compounds down. Moyo had stared at them for three minutes before either one of them noticed him in the living room and Robbe exclaimed, “Moyo, it’s not what it looks like!” and Noor laughed, throwing her head back in laughter. 

* * *

_Sander: We have officially made it to the hospital safely._

_Robbe: Good, I’m assuming Senne sped the entire way?_

_Sander: Of course._

_Sander: But, we didn’t get pulled over._

_Sander: And to Senne, that’s all that matters sometimes._

_Robbe: haha yeah_

_Robbe: Just so you know, Jens is mad at you._

_Robbe: He understands and he would’ve done the same thing. But he’s also mad._

_Sander: I’m not surprised._

_Sander: I’m mad at myself too._

_Robbe: Why?_

_Sander: I know you would want me to go and I wanted to go too… but I really didn’t want to leave you again._

_Robbe: I didn’t want you to leave either._

_Robbe: But, if my mama was in the hospital again…_

_Robbe: You probably would’ve just gotten a text message from me._

_Robbe: But, thank you for telling me_ , _you didn’t have to_ ❤

_Sander: Yes I did. I wanted to._

_Sander: But, my mom’s pissed that we’re here._

_Robbe: She is?_

_Sander: Yeah. Especially when she heard about you and me._

_Robbe: What?_

_Sander: As soon as we stepped into the room, Senne practically announced it._

_Sander: Yeah, she’s all “Sander, you finally got your head out of your ass and told him that you have been in love with him for so long and you’re here in the hospital, instead of on the beach with the love of your life”_

_Sander: So, yeah, she’s pissed about it._

_Robbe: She did not say that._

_Robbe: I don’t believe you._

_Sander: She definitely did._

_Sander: She absolutely did (-Senne)_

_Sander: I have half of it on video if you want to see it (-Camille)_

_Robbe:_ 😂😂😂

_Sander: Glad to see that you’re laughing at my mother chastising me too._

_Sander: I don’t know how she even knew. She doesn’t even know specifically what happened._

_Robbe: Wow, I’m touched._

_Sander: I’m sorry, did you tell your mom about what happened in the bathroom?_

_Robbe: No, but I told Milan and the Broerrrs_

_Robbe: And Zoë … and she basically mothers me sometimes_

_Sander: Thank you for proving my point._

_Sander: I know I’ve said this already but I miss you._

_Robbe: I miss you too._

_Sander: When are you guys coming back?_

_Robbe: Three days, I think._

_Robbe: I’ll let you know for sure._

_Robbe: Why?_

_Sander: Because I’m going to pick you up and go to lunch_

_Sander: I’ve got a lot of time to make up for ;)_

_Robbe: I’m counting down the days_

_Robbe: Tell Mama and Camille hi._

_Sander: I will._

_Sander: Also, she’s demanding that you come to see her as soon as you get back._

_Sander: Or we have dinner as soon as she’s out._

_Robbe: Really? That’s so soon._

_Sander: Well, she wants to meet my boyfriend._

_Sander: And, she’s been telling me that I need to make it up to you for years._

_Sander: So, she’s really excited._

_Robbe: I’m your boyfriend?_

_Sander: If that’s okay with you._

_Sander: I know we didn’t define it._

_Sander: But, I would very much love to be your boyfriend._

_Sander: And, I would very much love for you to be my boyfriend._

_Sander: If you want to be my boyfriend._

_Robbe: I would very much love to be your boyfriend too._

_Robbe: I would also very much love for you to be my boyfriend._

_Sander: Good, because that’s what you are._

_Robbe:_ ❤

_Sander: I love you._

_Robbe: I love you too._

* * *

Even with Moyo and Aaron trying to keep themselves entertained, the entire one-hour train ride back to Antwerp felt agonizingly slow. 

The booth that they had picked was close to the back of the train, at least three booths away from the nearest set of doors. Moyo and Aaron had claimed one side of the booth, watching Fortnite videos on one of their phones that was propped up on a set of books. On the other side of the booth, Robbe had claimed the window suite, Jens had taken the aisle, and Lucas sat between them. About halfway through, Lucas leaned against Jens and his legs were propped up in Robbe’s lap. 

As Robbe watched the scenery go by, his phone let out a buzz, vibrating loudly against the table, and he lifted it up to see who it was. But, he already had an idea of who it was. But, seeing the name on his screen still sent a glow through his chest that Robbe was sure that he would never get used to. 

_Sander: I can’t wait to see you_ ❤

_Sander: I’m already at the station._

_Sander: I feel like I should have a large bouquet of flowers._

_Sander: Or a big sign._

_Sander: Something._

“Is it _Sander_?” Lucas teased his smile wide. 

Robbe flipped him off and Lucas laughed. 

_Robbe: Just bring you._

_Robbe: That’s all I need_ ❤

_Sander: Okay, okay. You deserve everything though._

_Robbe: So do you._

Robbe glanced over to Jens, who was resting against the back, cradling Lucas against his chest. The dirty blond man gave him a reassuring grin as he traced patterns on the arm wrapped around him. Ever since Jens had discovered what happened between Robbe and Sander, he could tell that his best friend was simmering with silent worry, worry that things would repeat himself, worry that Robbe would be hurt again. Robbe understood, he shared the same fears, but he could tell that things were different this time. 

He just wished that Jens could see it too. 

_“Next stop: Antwerp.”_

In the blink of an eye, Jens patted Lucas’ side. The man sat up and Jens jumped out of his seat, grabbing his duffle bag from between his ankles and moved towards the exit of the train. Robbe glanced towards Lucas, who simply shrugged his shoulders and slowly got his things together. Sitting trapped between Lucas and the aisle, Robbe could feel his body buzzing, eager to get off the train, eager to get to Sander, throw his arms around him again, to have him _here_ and _with him_. 

The train finally halted to a stop, shifting them, but Robbe couldn’t go anywhere with Lucas still sitting down on the seat. Moyo and Aaron climbed out of the booth, slipping the phone that they had been using into one of their pockets, and Lucas jumped up next, slipping out of the booth without a care in the world. As soon as Lucas was up, Robbe was on his tail, jumping in front of them in an attempt to get out the door first. 

But, as he stepped onto the platform, he couldn’t see Sander’s platinum blond hair. 

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. 

_Sander: I’m outside the station now. Jens caught me first._

_Robbe: What happened?_

_Sander: Nothing. We’re just talking._

_Robbe: You mean he’s giving you the talk._

_Sander: Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant._

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Lucas questioned, stepping off the train with Aaron and Moyo at his heels. Despite the fact that Lucas was trying to look like he was concerned, and his voice had managed to actually sound concerned, Robbe could spot the knowing look in Lucas’ eye and he simply glared at him. He could also see that Moyo didn’t look surprised either. 

“Are you serious?” Robbe questioned. 

Aaron blinked, staring at all of them with a confused expression. “What’s going on?” 

“You can’t blame him for being worried, Robbe,” Moyo admitted. 

“I know I can’t,” Robbe admitted, letting out a breath. Glancing around to the flow of traffic, Robbe headed into the current of people that were headed outside of the train station. He could hear his three friends follow after him with Lucas being the closest to him. Robbe let out a sigh. “I know that he’s worried and that he can be protective of me, but I just wish he realized that I’m a little nervous about this too.” 

“I know,” Lucas remarked. “But, he did see the aftermath of what happened last time. He saw what happened when Sander left last time, permanently, and didn’t keep in contact with you. Maybe, he just wants to prevent that from happening again.” Robbe shrugged his shoulders, knowing that Lucas was right. Lucas wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “ _Besides,_ Robbe, if Sander’s as serious about making this work, he’s going to win over Jens no problem. It just might take some time.”

“I know,” Robbe replied. “Just kind of wish they would get along, you know?”

Lucas nodded his head. “I get that. When Jens met Kes and Jayden and everyone, I was so nervous that they wouldn’t get along. I didn’t want to have to choose between hanging out with Jens and hanging out with my friends. Your situation is a bit more complicated, but I do understand where you’re coming from.” Robbe smiled, thankful that Lucas understood. “But, I have a feeling that you won’t have to worry about that.” 

Robbe’s eyes darted ahead of him, his brown eyes catching bleach-blond hair before he even realized that the hair belonged to Sander. But, once he realized that Sander was _there_ , leaning against a wall opposite of Jens who had a serious and stern expression on his face, Robbe could feel the relief flood his system. The feeling flooded into his bloodstream, igniting a bright glow in his chest where his heart lay in his ribcage. Without thinking, without caring, he moved towards Sander without thinking, practically throwing himself into the blond’s waiting arms, who saw him coming and caught him before his head hit the brick wall. 

Sander laughed in his ear, holding him close. 

“You’re _here_ ,” Robbe mumbled, not caring that Jens was right there and that the rest of his friends were a few steps behind, burying his face deep into the crook of Sander’s neck. His arms wound tight around Sander’s waist, pulling him tightly against him, and he could hear Jens’ fond chuckle. Even buried in Sander's skin, he could hear his other friends arriving and Lucas pressing a kiss against Jens’ cheek. 

“Yes,” Sander whispered in his ear, a light laugh in his voice. “I told you I would be.” Robbe chuckled, tilting back to look up at him. He could hear Jens talking to Aaron and Moyo, hearing their laughter at whatever Jens had said, but Robbe didn’t care. He just cared about Sander being there, in his arms, and Sander smiled down at him, his green eyes flickering down to Robbe’s lips, “Are you here to save me? Your best friend is being quite overprotective.”

“Mhmm,” Robbe remarked. “I’m always here to save you.”

“Hey, can you blame me?” Jens cut in, grinning and earning their attention. 

“No, I can’t,” Sander admitted, turning back to Jens, who had one arm looped around Lucas’s shoulders. The blond brought Robbe back against his chest, who simply snuggled further into Sander’s embrace. “But, I’m not going to do that again. If I did hurt Robbe like I did last time, you wouldn’t have to do anything. I would have already flung myself off a cliff.” 

“Hey,” Robbe remarked, staring up at Sander, who rubbed a hand up and down his back. He felt someone’s fingers on his hand, taking Robbe’s own luggage from his hand, and the brunet turned to find Jens slinging it over his shoulder. “Hey, that’s my stuff!” Robbe called. Jens smiled at him, grabbing hold of Lucas’ with his free hand and proceeded to drag him away. 

“Don’t worry,” Jens shouted over his shoulder, “I’ll drop it off at the flatshare! I have the spare key, remember?” Moyo high-fived Sander before he was heading off to a car and Aaron raced in the direction that Jens had gone in. “Be safe!” Jens shouted before the three of them disappeared around the corner.

Sander laughed, glancing after him. “He hasn’t changed one bit.”

“Mhmm,” Robbe mumbled, grabbing ahold of Sander’s t-shirt and bringing him close. Sander grinned, tilting his head down so their lips met in a kiss so gentle and searing that it made Robbe’s head spin and his stomach flip in his gut, the happy kind of nervous. After a minute, the brunet pulled away from Sander’s lips, glancing up at him, “So, what’s the plan? It’s almost dinner time.”

Sander grinned at him, reaching out to grab his hand, locking their fingers together, pulling him in the opposite direction. “I was hoping that we could get dinner and then go see a movie,” Sander admitted, giving Robbe a wicked grin that lit up his entire face. 

“Is there something interesting out in the theaters now?” Robbe questioned, gripping onto Sander’s hand tightly. 

Sander shook his head, grinning over at Robbe and looking down obviously at his lips, “I’m not entirely for sure. I was kind of just hoping to sit in the back corner and make out with you for two hours.” Robbe felt his cheeks flush, which caused Sander to laugh, and he pushed his arm. “Don’t worry,” Sander spoke, pressing a fleeting kiss against Robbe’s flushed cheeks. “We can make out in the corner only if you want to. Come on, let’s figure out what to have for dinner _and_ what movie to watch.” 

To their credit, they only made out for the ten minutes intervals between lulls in the plot. 

After the movie was over, Sander insisted on walking Robbe home, going so far as getting on the bus with him, sitting so their hands were joined in his lap, fingers interlocked and their palms kissing. Sander talked about his mom, about how she was insisting that Sander bring Robbe for dinner in a week or two, and how she wanted Robbe to bring his mom as well. 

When they finally got to the flatshare, Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe’s waist, bringing him into a goodnight kiss. The kiss started off chaste and simple, their lips pressed together, but Robbe wrapped his arms low on Sander’s waist, bringing his body closer, and Sander opened Robbe’s mouth with his lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Despite the heated passion, it was still slow and deliberate and agonizing. Robbe slipped his hand between them, sliding his hand down Sander’s chest, inching slowly towards his belt. 

Sander pulled away, their lips separating with a pop, but he made no move to stop Robbe’s hand, which was now resting on the belt. The blond let out a light sigh, looking at Robbe with a clouded expression through his eyelashes, silently declaring, “Robbe IJzermans, you make it incredibly difficult to be a gentleman.”

Robbe grinned up at him, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I think we’ve done enough waiting,” Robbe admitted, a light laugh in his voice. He dropped his hand lower, only to slip it beneath the black fabric of his button-up shirt, his palm sliding up the skin of Sander’s stomach. The blond’s breath hitched, his eyes pinched together, and his hands drew Robbe closer to him. Robbe leaned towards him, nudging their noses together in an effort to get Sander’s eyes opened. It worked. “Don’t you think?” 

Sander nodded his head, bringing their lips back together. This kiss was needier than the one before, their lips moving more frantically and uncaring that they were right outside an apartment, in plain view of anyone passing, with Sander’s tongue in Robbe’s mouth. Sander pulled back, letting out a breath and whispering, “If it’s what you want to do, it’s okay.”

“But, is it something you want?” Robbe questioned, insecurity rearing its ugly head again.

“Yes,” Sander confessed, like a prayer. The blond pulled him closer, somehow leaving no room between them, one arm low on his waist and one hand deep in his hair, pulling on the brown strands. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about…” Sander admitted, seemingly unaware of how Robbe’s pulse jumped at those words. “But, I don’t want to push you. I don’t want to go too far, too fast and then-”

“You could never push me,” Robbe whispered, standing on his toes to press their lips together. This time, the kiss was needy and unashamed, heated and _scorching_. Robbe could feel it in his toes, in his fingertips, against his thigh, the buzz and anticipation. The kiss simmered on their lips, deep beneath this surface of their skin, ingrained in their bloodstream, before Robbe pulled away, breathless and his lips wet from Sander’s tongue running across them. Robbe let out a breath, smiling, “I want you, Sander. You never have to worry about me not wanting you.”

Sander let out a sigh of relief, opening his eyes to look down at Robbe, to see he was telling the truth. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to get here,” Sander whispered, their lips barely brushing.

“It’s okay,” Robbe replied, staring up in his green eyes. “You’re here now.” 

Robbe snagged hold of Sander’s jacket, tugging him back towards him. Their lips connected again, gentle and heated once again. Taking a tighter hold, Robbe moved them in the direction of the building, guiding Sander in the building without caring who saw the two of them kissing or not. 

“And, for the record,” Robbe spoke between kisses. Sander glanced at him through his eyelashes, a fond smile on his face as Robbe leaned him against the lobby wall, pressing the button for the elevator without looking. “I don’t want you to behave like a gentleman.” 

Sander laughed, pulling Robbe against him, their mouths meeting in a kiss and his heart glowing in his chest. 

“And,” Robbe whispered, separating their lips slightly, so quietly that he was almost sure that Sander didn't even hear him. “I don't want you to go.”

Sander smiled, reaching up to cradle Robbe’s face, bringing their lips together in a kiss that was so sweet and gentle that it made Robbe’s head dizzy. “I'm not going anywhere. I promise.” Robbe smiled, feeling his heart soar in his chest, before tilting his head up and feeling Sander’s lips slide back against his own. Robbe gripped onto him tightly, hearing the elevator door ding open, and pushed Sander inside, never wanting to let go of him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys have enjoyed this incredible journey and I hope to see you all in the next story that I'm going to tell!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr at ravenbrenna09.tumblr.com


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